


What to follow Cheese Sandwiches with can only be found in Chelsea

by ncruuk



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:49:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7972417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ncruuk/pseuds/ncruuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to a teddy bear and a bar of chocolate, their friends had somehow decided that Osgood was the romantic one.  Kate wouldn't disagree, although for her, it was a cheese sandwich that defined romance.  But that doesn't mean Kate isn't romantic... she just knows that to match a Cheese Sandwich takes time...</p>
<p>[This will make no sense unless you have read 'Cheese Sandwich' as an absolute minimum, although 'Every Relationship Needs a Handkerchief' and 'It's a New Year and McGillop Drank (Most of) his Beer' would probably help too, all here on AO3 on my author page.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In an attempt to not spoil my own story before it begins, all notes are at the end, including the disclaimers/thanks for the things which are not mine but that I've 'borrowed' for the purposes of telling a good story....
> 
> Max, Soph, and Flo are my own characters, with thanks to @darklioness82 for the idea of Flo and permission to develop her in these stories.
> 
> If you haven't read Cheese Sandwich (and, being honest, all my other Kate/Osgood stories, this is your final warning - what follows will make much more sense if you do. Snacks will be required - the author recommends a cheese sandwich :-) )
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you for reading

**The Penultimate Monday in May, London**

 

“Gordy?”

 

“Os!”  Striding across the shiny, marble floored lobby, Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart rushed over to Osgood and, before she’d really properly prepared herself, swept her up into a hug.

 

“Oooph…” Despite her surprise, Osgood returned the hug, realising as she did so that she hadn’t properly seen him since… she couldn’t actually remember the specific instance.  “Put me down!” she insisted when she felt her heels leaving the ground.  

 

“Sorry Os…”  Looking a bit sheepish at his slight over-reaction, Gordy gently put her squarely back on the ground and released her from his hug, checking that she was indeed steady before he completely let go.  “It’s just been ages!”  Although they’d exchanged texts, emails and the occasional phone call, it just wasn’t the same.

 

“That’s what happens when you’re busy at work…” she agreed, knowing that it wasn’t just UNIT that suddenly made sticking to a socialising routine almost impossible, although she knew Kate wasn’t entirely convinced with his explanations of late.   Straightening her jacket and repositioning her glasses, which felt askew even if the world was looking in focus, she tried to stop him fussing, already feeling quite self-conscious enough.  “What happened to ‘being a grown up’?”

 

“I was young and headstrong?”

 

“You were 22…” and firmly in the thrall of _that girl,_ thought Osgood, although she was far too polite to say so.

 

“Well I’m older and wiser now,” declared Gordy, pulling his shoulders back and trying to create the illusion that, at not quite 26, 22 was a lifetime ago.

 

“Of course you are.”  Running out of things to say, Osgood fidgeted with the collar of her shirt, attracting Gordy’s attention to her overall outfit.

 

“Awesome jacket Os…” he declared, taking in the neatly buttoned warm brown herringbone patterned tailored jacket with the slender lapels and a golden coloured piped trim detailing the edges of the pockets and buttonholes. “New?”

 

“My birthday present…” Osgood fussed with the collar of her shirt again, distracting Gordy from her jacket, which like an unexpectedly high number of items in her wardrobe, was something he found himself coveting.

 

“Cool.”  That it was from his Mum was implicit - partly because he could tell it had clearly been tailored especially for Osgood (something she wouldn’t consider organising for herself) and mainly because he knew that Osgood wouldn’t be wearing it if it came from anyone other than Kate.  Except perhaps if Max or he managed to give her something he thought, but neither he nor his brother had yet worked out how to buy clothes for their own girlfriends (when they had them), never mind their mother’s.  “Open necked?” he queried, not surprised to see that the shirt was an almost white sort of cream with a finely detailed Paisley print in what was no doubt a perfect colour match for the jacket, but almost gobsmacked to see the top button undone, never mind no tie or bow tie.

 

“Bow tie,” said Os, pulling out a plain bow tie that, once tied at her neck would match the trim and detailing on the jacket, creating an almost too well put together outfit.

 

“Nice…” He wasn’t entirely sure what it was that was making him think there was something ‘off’ about her outfit, but there was something....it was just a little too… regularly quirky rather than Osgood quirky.  Which wasn’t to say she didn’t look lovely, she was just not quite herself.  “How’s Mum getting on?” he asked, in an attempt to change the subject when it became apparent that he’d possibly been looking at her a little too quizzically for a little too long.

 

“She’ll be there.” Osgood carefully refolded the bow tie and put it back in her jacket pocket before checking that the laces on her boots were still neatly tied and weren’t snagging the bottoms of her moleskin trousers.  It may be May, but this was England and Spring was more a state of mind than an actual meteorological experience, and as for flower shows...boots were the only option as far as Kate was concerned, so Osgood was hardly going to wear anything else.

 

“Be there like she was for my Graduation?” asked Gordy, waving to his colleagues who were just coming out of the lifts, “or like she was there for my Uni wicket-keeping debut?”

 

“Graduation,” said Osgood decisively, turning around so that she could see whoever it was that Gordy was waving to, “definitely Graduation.  She was quite specific.”

 

“Ok.”  He smiled at Osgood before introducing her to ‘Tim, Oli, Ash and Soph’ who all seemed perfectly smiley and pleasant but Osgood found herself unable to say with any great confidence who was who, although she thought that, on the balance of probabilities, the redheaded guy in the checked shirt was Tim and the woman who looked a little bit like Martha Jones was probably Soph.  But which one was Oli and which one was Ash she didn’t want to speculate.  Fortunately Gordy didn’t appear to be particularly attached to either Ash or Oli so Osgood decided she probably didn’t need to worry about having no clue who was who.

 

“Shall we?”  Unsurprisingly, with his grandfather’s ‘old fashioned’ manners and his mother’s easy confidence, Gordy soon had Tim, Soph and Osgood heading for the pavement where the chauffeured people carrier was idling, waiting for the group, Ash and Oli already stood by its open doors, smoking rushed cigarettes.  As the vehicle pulled away, Tim, Gordy and not-Soph were just sorting out their seat-belts whilst Osgood, happy watching London life pass them by through the window, tried to tune out the chatter of Oli-or-Ash-who-was-not-Soph as they talked to Soph, who was sat next to her.  

 

“Is she still at the Tower then?” asked Gordy after a few minutes, when they were stuck in traffic on the Embankment.

 

“Who?” Osgood turned back to look at Gordy when she realised he’d been speaking to her, reacting before she’d finished recalling what he’d asked, “oh, no.  Hopefully just Downing Street.”  Osgood looked at her watch and winced, seeing the time.  “But probably Catford.”

 

“Catford?  As in…”

 

“You talking about Catford?  It’s all over the papers this morning…” volunteered not-Soph and therefore Oli-or-Ash, “not ours, obviously.”

 

“Obviously?” Osgood’s natural curiosity overcame her instinctive desire to not talk to people she knew nothing about.

 

“We’re the Financial Times, not Town Planning Weekly…”

 

“I see.”  Osgood thought for a moment, not particularly liking the tone Oli-or-Ash had used, nor the way she was being eyed.  “I didn’t catch what ‘desk’ you ran?” she asked politely, hoping she’d remembered how to describe the different departments within a newspaper correctly.

 

“Architecture.”

 

“Interesting.”  Osgood really didn’t know what to say in response to that, although suspected that Kate would have a few suggestions, which had obviously occurred to Gordy too, given how fascinating he was finding the state of polish on the toes of his shoes...

 

“Catford had that…” Soph, sat next to Osgood, was clearly happy for a reason to cut across Oli-or-Ash’s monologue and start a conversation with Osgood and Gordy, “...fuel spill was it?”

 

“The Guardian said it was a ‘chemical spill’,” declared Oli-or-Ash, evidently oblivious to the fact that fuel was a form of ‘chemical’, but Osgood didn’t think she wanted to try and point that out - for one thing, they were still East of Parliament Square and it would be a long walk to the Royal Hospital from here.

 

“Wasn’t there a chemical spill in Carshalton the day before yesterday as well?” As Oli-or-Ash asked the question, their driver put on a sudden turn of speed and, with the sort of impressively healthy disregard for red traffic lights that Osgood normally only experienced with the benefit of a police escort, shot around the Houses of Parliament in something approaching record speed.

 

It therefore wasn’t until they were on Millbank that Ash-or-Oli restarted their conversation from the front seat.  “Sounds like a cover-up to me.”

 

“He’s Security,” explained Tim helpfully from the other side of Soph, sensing that Osgood might need some help in understanding why everyone groaned.

 

“Since when did you travel with Security?” asked Osgood, looking severely at Gordy, not liking that he hadn’t mentioned anything to her or Kate.

 

“Security Correspondent, not _Security_ Security,” corrected Gordy, relieved to see Osgood’s expression relax - she was very tough to anger, but it was quite something when it happened, and he did not want to experience it today.  “Speaking of, is Max with Mum?”

 

“Yes.”  Osgood smiled reassuringly at Gordy, “she’ll be there, I promise.”  Osgood cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject.  “It wasn’t a cover up.”

 

“What wasn’t?”

 

“The fuel spill at Catford.”

 

“How would _you_ know?” asked Oli-or-Ash, not bothering to conceal her dislike of this funny friend of Gordy’s.

 

Osgood thought about how she could answer the question as they managed to get lucky with another traffic light (amber this time), trying to work out from Gordy’s expression as to whether this obnoxious young woman was a particular friend of his or not.  On the one hand, she could explain how a petrol tanker had skidded and crashed against a railway bridge yesterday afternoon and had unfortunately caught fire, laying waste to some adjacent disused light industrial buildings.  Whilst this was factually correct and proved that the fuel spill story wasn’t a cover up, it didn’t exactly explain that the tanker had skidded on a combustible chemical spill, which was actually leaked hydraulic fluid from the broken steering and navigation systems of a rather well-meaning but lost group of inter-planetary tourists who had slightly misunderstood what the London ‘A-Z’ was actually intended for.  

 

“It’s…” She saw Gordy’s brief shake of his head, confirming what her initial thought had been, “...classified.”

 

“Yeah, right,” scoffed Oli-or-Ash in such a way that anyone less good-natured than Osgood would have probably reacted rather spiritedly, “nothing classified every happens in Catford.”  Based on her tone, it was clear that this Oli-or-Ash wasn’t expecting to be contradicted so Osgood, unusually for her, decided not to attempt to correct this falsehood.  It was also apparent, from the uncomfortable silence that settled over the car, that no one else really knew what to say, until finally, just as Osgood was once again wondering why anyone ever thought that green glass monstrosity was a suitable building for MI6, Tim asked Gordy where Kate was.

 

“Catford.”  Gordy was about to get cross with Tim for not paying attention, only to remember that he’d been practically dragged into the car by Soph as he was still on a conference call and so hadn’t really been paying attention to anything or anyone until he’d told Osgood that Ash (in the front seat) was the Security Correspondent after the call was over.  “But she’s coming.”

 

“Coming like your graduation coming?” asked Tim, enabling Osgood to work out that this was ‘Tim-the-economist’ friend that Gordy had at University who she’d never met.  She did however, remember Gordy mentioning that a university friend had recently joined the newspaper after a couple of years in the Civil Service, so this must be him.

 

“Yup.”  Gordy nodded in Osgood’s direction, “I don’t think you ever met Os?”

 

“No…” Tim tried to lean around Soph to see Osgood properly, finally managing to look over her when she leant forwards so Tim could shake hands with Osgood over her back, “I think I waved to you across a cricket pitch?” he guessed, having a vague memory of seeing her with Gordy one day, “but he’s told me a lot about you.”

 

“Probably,” agreed Osgood, smiling nervously, once again wishing that Kate was with her - she was much better at making small talk.

 

Fortunately, before there could be any more awkward conversation, they had arrived at the traffic jam for the Bullring entrance, only to see that there was extra security, making Oli and Ash groan at how much they were going to be delayed.

 

“Uh, Gordy?”

 

“Yes Os?”  He matched her quiet tone and leant forwards, unfastening his seatbelt so he could get close enough to hear properly.

 

“Tell the driver some of us are getting out here please?”

 

“But…” Gordy was about to say that they were in the middle of the traffic jam, and that they hadn’t reached the turning for vehicles, but then he saw the extra security and grinned, “seriously?”

 

“Seriously.  You, me…” Osgood looked at him, not sure what he might be expecting her to say.

 

“Tim and Soph?” he asked, smiling shyly when he mentioned Soph’s name, something Osgood made a mental note to mention to Kate as soon as she could.

 

“Fine.”

 

Moments later, and before Oli and Ash (Osgood still didn’t know which one was the Security Correspondent and which was the Architecture one, but she didn’t actually mind, as she just knew she didn’t like either of them) really knew what was happening, Osgood, Gordy, Tim and Soph were stood on the pavement, looking at the queues of people trying to get through the very heavy security.

 

“Uh,” Soph looked around, somewhat bemused, “what’s going on Gordy?” she asked, not liking the fact that a very heavily armed, all black wearing soldier was coming straight up to them.

 

“We’re joining the very VIP lane,”  he grinned, trying to reassure her.

 

“But we were already in Corporate Hospitality and today...why all the extra security?” she asked, eyes widening as she took in the extra police, more than last year, and the fact that these black wearing soldiers seemed to be in charge.

 

Before anyone could answer her, the soldier had reached them.

 

“Excuse me, folks?” As he spoke, Osgood turned around to face him and took a step forward, “oh, I’m sorry Ma’am…” To everyone’s surprise, including Osgood, the soldier came to a fleeting ‘at attention’ stance, although he didn’t bother to salute, much to her relief, “...I didn’t realise you were coming in this way Ma’am.”

 

“It’s ok Lieutenant…” Osgood looked a little more closely, realising he was one of Max’s team on Troop, Lieutenant Chun if she remembered correctly.  “You remember Gordy I think?” she asked, recalling Gordy had gone out for New Year’s Eve celebrations with Max and his squad.

 

“Captain Stewart’s brother? Yes Sir!”  He stuck out his hand which Gordy shook, pleased to see the guy again, “I must apologise Sir…”

 

“It’s Gordy, and you really don’t…” He was conscious of Osgood looking at him strangely, trying to solve the puzzle, “...you weren’t to know I’m allergic to grapefruit.”  He looked to Osgood, adding, “when Max wouldn’t let me have an Ultimatum of my own, I sort of helped myself to Chun’s.”

 

“Is this everyone in your group Ma’am?”  Chun knew that Troop were not supposed to blush, so quickly changed the subject and focus back to UNIT today..

 

“Yes, uh…” Osgood turned to Tim and Soph, “...can you come here?” she asked, gesturing to the two people not currently ‘known’ to UNIT.  “Can you tell the Lieutenant your full names please?  Including any middle names?” She didn’t like to add that by standing in front of him, the Lieutenant’s body cameras, embedded in his helmet and chest armour, would relay their images back to the Tower, along with their names and voice prints.  By the time they’d crossed the road and got to the actual entrance, they’d have been sufficiently checked out to be either admitted or arrested.  She was hoping it was the former - the paperwork involved in the latter was rather tedious and she didn’t think Gordy would be pleased with her if his friends were suddenly arrested by UNIT.

 

Confused, but reassured by Tim’s easy acceptance (he’d heard enough from Gordy over the years to know that his Mum was ‘something’ important in some sort of intelligence related organisation and that occasionally, this had cramped Gordy’s style) and Gordy’s shy smile, Soph followed Tim’s example and seconds later, they were being escorted by the Lieutenant towards the very front of the long queues.

 

“Uh, who are you?” asked Soph, looking at Osgood, totally lost.

 

“I’m Osgood.”

 

“Osgood?”

 

“Just Osgood.”  Before she could say anything more, not that she’d wanted to, they’d arrived at the front of the queue and it was time to find out if the Tower was happy with Gordy’s friends and colleagues.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

“Yes Chun?”

 

“Your party is cleared…” Chun took the spare radio handset off his belt and passed it to her.

 

“Thanks.”  Automatically Osgood took the radio handset as it was passed to her, but she looked skeptically at him, wanting to know why she needed a radio.  However, before he could reply, the radio burst into life.

 

“Greyhound One to Greyhound Two?”

 

“Greyhound Two receiving…” Osgood saw Gordy roll his eyes at her when he recognised his mother’s voice through the tinny speaker, “what’s up?”

 

“Us, in a minute or two.  We’re on our way…” Kate glared at Max who was currently shaking his head at their inability to stick to the  proper phrases and radio protocols, but it was more in amusement rather than anger - anyone else and they’d be up before the Colonel to explain themselves, but then again, there had to be some perks to being Greyhounds… “we will be with you in about 15 minutes.”

 

“Everything ok?”  Osgood didn’t need to tell Kate that she’d just arrived, or that she was with Gordy and two of his friends - the Tower would have already advised her of that.

 

“Nothing a G & T won’t fix.”

 

“I think that can be managed,” observed Osgood, not liking how weary Kate was sounding, but pleased that she was on her way, “see you soon.  Greyhound Two Out.”  Shutting off the radio, she passed it back to Chun, not wanting to stay in contact with the office for any longer than she had to, after all, this was her day off.  “Thank you Chun, have a good afternoon.”  And with a smile, completely oblivious to the fact that all the UNIT personnel who were within eavesdropping distance were still in slight shock - no one other than Greyhound Two would ever dare to end a radio call with Greyhound One, Osgood turned back to Gordy and his friends.  “Sorry about that Gordy - Kate and Max will be here in about 15 minutes, and your mother would like a Gin and Tonic if that’s possible?”

 

“More than possible,” declared Gordy, a broad grin breaking out across his face now that his Mum’s arrival was definitively confirmed, “I’d say essential!”


	2. Chapter 2

“What?”

 

“Nothing…” Max tried to conceal his smile behind his hand that was ostensibly repositioning the small integrated earpiece and microphone that he’d tucked in his ear as they boarded the helicopter.

 

“I’m amusing you,” observed Kate, leaning back into her seat and considering him thoughtfully, her own earpiece and microphone unit nestled in her right ear and resting against her cheek, enabling her to converse comfortably with Max despite the rotor noise.  It was one of Osgood’s many ‘small’ ideas that made life in the upper echelons of UNIT just a little more comfortable - in this case, the little earpieces that they picked up when they boarded a UNIT helicopter and activated with their fingerprint, immediately confirming their identity and connecting them to the onboard wifi network.

 

“No, of course not.”  Max dropped his hand away from his face and tried to look calm and professional.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t something that worked particularly well on his commanding officers.

 

“That look hasn’t worked on me since you were 8 Maximilian…” Kate stretched her leg out and gave him a ‘motherly’ prod in the shin with her foot which, unusually for a ‘work day’, was shod in leather boots rather than her brightly coloured short heels. “So spit it out.  I could do with a smile after that farce.”

 

“You and Os, on the radio.”

 

“Yes?”  Kate couldn’t exactly remember what she’d said, but didn’t think it had been particularly earth-shattering.

 

“You sounded just like you do on the phone…” Max realised she wasn’t quite getting his point, “...you do know you’re the only two who don’t use the radio protocols and get away with it, don’t you?”

 

“Oh.”  Kate thought for a moment, “should I tell us off?” she asked, amused when she realised that not only was he right, but they’d probably never really followed the radio protocols terribly well in all their time working at the Tower.

 

“I think it’s called the perk of being the boss…” he grinned, “and it drives the Colonel crazy…” he added conspiratorily, knowing that this was a mother/son moment rather than an ‘at work’ moment.  “Don’t change?”

 

“I’m sure there’s an old dog new tricks joke in there somewhere…” grumbled Kate good-naturedly, still not clear on why exactly UNIT London command officers were ‘greyhounds’ but not bothered about fighting it, “...but I’ll let you off.  Is that the new suit?” she asked, changing the subject.

 

“Yes…” Max ‘shot’ his shirt cuffs so that they were sitting neatly at his wrists, providing touches of colour just beyond the ends of his suit jacket cuffs.  “Thank you,” he added, looking down nervously at his lapels, relieved to see they weren’t crushed or folded haphazardly, “do you mind that I went for a ‘work’ suit?”

 

“‘Work suit’?” Kate didn’t understand what he meant by the term, until he demonstrated his point by opening his jacket enough for her to see the holster sitting on his belt, just behind his hip, taking care not to show the lining of the jacket.  “No, I don’t mind.  It was yours to spend on what you wanted.”  She watched as he let the jacket settle back into position, the well cut and tailored jacket making it almost impossible to see the weapon.  “And you look very handsome.”  She looked out of the window, starting to notice the familiar landmarks of central London appearing in the distance as they closed in on the centre of the city.  “Does Jess like it?” 

 

“Yes…” Kate didn’t need to be looking at him to know that he was blushing and his nose was twitching as he kept changing his mind on what to say, “...she came with me…” he spotted a small piece of Plane tree pollen caught on his trouser and carefully removed it, smoothing the dark navy-blue fabric into place afterwards, “...helped me pick it.”

 

“It’s lovely.”  Kate looked back at him, considering the little details of his outfit, taking in the ‘trendy but classic’ clean lines of the jacket, the subtle detailing in the stitching for the buttonholes, the crisp white shirt with the cutaway collar and the neatly knotted tie that was the same pale blue as her own shirt, Osgood’s favourite colour of blue, but with a narrow rich, brown diagonal stripe that made it look almost regimental.  “Dare I ask about the lining?”  She remembered their enthusiasm as twenty year olds, when she’d taken them both to Saville Row for Max to get his officer’s uniform cap (it was supposed to be the full regimental uniform, but he hadn’t finished his growth spurt, and there was only so much you can ask a tailor to do in terms of ‘letting the seams out’) and they’d seen the ‘secrets’ a bespoke tailored jacket could hide.  Now, a few years later, looking at Max’s smirk, she knew it was a moment he’d remembered, and was therefore reasonably confident his service weapon wasn’t the only ‘surprise’ concealed by the tailor.

 

“It’s a surprise…”  Max glanced out of the window and saw that they were turning to follow the line of the River Thames west a bit, confirming that they were now only a minute or two away from landing, although it would take them a few minutes to enter the Show and meet up with Gordy and Osgood.  “We’re nearly there.”

 

“Thank heaves for that,” declared Kate, leaning back in her seat and taking a moment to check that her own appearance was up to scratch - this had supposedly been her day off, but instead she’d spent too much of her morning trying to pacify the Prime Minister’s idiotic worries that had finally only be allayed by her going to Catford with the PM.  As predicted, it had been tedious, inconvenient for the UNIT officers at the scene who had better things to do than babysit the PM, and worst of all meant she was almost late for something really rather special.  On the plus side, she’d at least been able to make up time by coming back in the helicopter and she didn’t care if she was petty in not offering the PM a lift.  “Can you text Gordy please?”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Tim?”

 

“Yes mate?”

 

“Is that a double?”  Gordy looked from his phone to his friend who was stood by the impromptu drinks bar, sorting out drinks for them all.

 

“Not yet…” Tim held up the tumbler that was currently full of ice and a wedge of fresh lime, “...if I mix it too early, the ice will melt.”  He’d worked as a bartender whilst at university, and consequently took the mixing of drinks rather seriously.

 

“She’ll be here in five minutes.”  Gordy double checked his phone before putting it back inside his trouser pocket.  Pulling out a tie from his jacket pocket, he flicked up his shirt collar and started putting it on.

 

“I’ve never seen you wear a tie before…” observed Soph, watching him fasten the top button of his shirt before efficiently slipping the tie into place and rapidly knotting it before folding his collar down again and instinctively making a final adjustment or two.

 

“You’ve never met my mother before…” joked Gordy, smoothing his hands down his jacket and asking, “how do I look?”

 

“Very smart,” confirmed Soph, noticing his tie seemed to be the same sort of gold colour that ‘just Osgood’ had on her jacket before dismissing it as a coincidence.  “Your mother’s going to be here in five minutes?” she asked suddenly, realising what had been bothering her.

 

“Yup, less than that now,” agreed Gordy, straightening his cufflinks which were the pair his mother had given him for Christmas. “Why?”

 

“You can’t get from Catford to Chelsea in fifteen minutes…” Anything else she might have been going to say was forgotten as everyone looked up when they heard a helicopter, surprised to see it flying low overhead, clearly intent on landing on the lawn at the Royal Hospital.

 

“You can if you have a helicopter,” shrugged Gordy, giving a thumbs up sign to Tim who proceeded to mix a very strong gin and tonic in anticipation of Kate’s arrival.

 

“Your mother’s James Bond?” Soph went bright red when she felt everyone looking at her.  “Wait, I said that aloud?  Oh…” Embarrassed, she tried to hide behind a convenient box tree that had been topiaried to within a millimetre of perfection.

 

“His brother’s the one who’s James Bond,” stage whispered Tim, ‘rescuing’ her with a glass of champagne, “really hot too!” he added, giving Soph a conspiratorial nudge, making her smile.

 

“Max is straight, Tim…” sighed Gordy for what felt like the millionth time in their friendship, knowing what his friend was doing and prepared to play along, “...and he’s got a girlfriend.”  Gordy laughed when he saw Tim’s over-exaggerated pout and mock sulk at supposedly having his hopes dashed.  “But yeah, he kind of is like James Bond…” he winked at Soph, pleased to see she was emerging from the relative safety of the topiary now he was talking about Max, who she’d met a couple of times.  “Which means Mum’s like M I guess….” Gordy looked over to Osgood, who had been admiring the planting but still in earshot, for any hints about what he could or couldn’t say, only to see the slight smile and nod from her telling him it was ok to share, “...only real, and with aliens.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

“That was…” Kate kept her thoughts to herself suddenly as she and Max were faced with yet another ‘welcoming committee’ that required a few handshakes and smiles and delayed their progress by another precious moment or two.

 

“A lot shorter than I might have been,” warned Max quietly, so only she could hear, when they at last managed to escape the last semi-official ‘duty’ and were finally in the Flower Show, walking down the Eastern Avenue.

 

“Good point,” agreed Kate, glancing at her watch and noticing it was only 22 minutes since she’d taken her leave of the PM in Catford, not caring that it wasn’t exactly politic to do so.  She’d take her notional ‘telling off’ from Winifred Bambera tomorrow morning.  “Oh, can you remind me to find those people with the barbeque tables?”

 

“You think they’re pointless…” 

 

“Yes, but Win’s tempted and I’ll mention it tomorrow when she’s finished shouting for effect.”  Kate stopped suddenly, her attention taken by one of the commercial stands that were selling various types of secateurs and other garden utensils, considering the merits of something that Max thought was...almost obscene looking.

 

“What is that?”  he asked, momentarily distracted from wondering what she was talking about to consider what it was she was examining.

 

“A long-handled dibber.”

 

“I’m sure we’re not allowed to use those under the Geneva Convention,” observed Max, looking at the long pointed stick with convenient handles in much the same way he contemplated any meal prepared by his brother.  “Hey!” He rubbed the back of his head whilst furtively looking around to check that his fellow UNIT colleagues who were in view were electing to not have seen it - it wouldn’t do his reputation much good if he, Captain Stewart, was being clipped on the head by his mother, even if she was also Greyhound One.

 

“It’s for gardening…” Kate put the dibber back and carried on walking, explaining, “you use a dibber to make the holes that you then drop seeds or bulbs in, before raking over the soil again.  A long handled dibber would be easier on my back, but my charming son doing it for me is even easier on my back, so thank you... Maximilian.”

 

“Is General Bambera thinking about getting a barbeque table then?” Changing the subject was, he decided, his only escape as, by calling him by his proper given name, he knew she would be not remotely amused if he tried to persuade Gordy to undertake the dibber work on his behalf.

 

“I think Flo’s the keen one, but it will give Win and I something to talk about that helps make the conversation last long enough for the diary note.”  Kate gestured that they needed to turn right off the Eastern Avenue and immediately slowed her walk to a stroll so she could consider the first show garden that was on their left.

 

“Have you two suddenly not got enough work or something?”  He looked at the garden, deciding he didn’t really like it.  “Where are the flowers?”

 

“Not everything is about the flowers…” sighed Kate, wondering where she’d gone wrong in trying to educate her sons about horticulture, “but I agree with you - there is a lot to be said for having  _ something  _ that isn’t green other than concrete.”  She looked again at the name of the garden.  “Then again, what can you expect when it’s sponsored by a cement factory?”  Satisfied that she’d seen enough, and that no amount of in depth looking was going to convince her that the garden had any redeeming qualities as far as she was concerned, Kate set off again, turning onto the Main Avenue which was lined on both sides with Show Gardens.  “You do know that my work diary is a document of record as far as UNIT goes?” she asked, returning to his earlier question.

 

“You mean it goes in the Archives like your father’s did?” Max gently guided her around a BBC television crew that were advancing down the path completely oblivious to anyone else who might be in their way, mainly because they expected everyone else to obligingly leap out of their way: they’d have got a nasty shock if he hadn’t diverted Kate’s path, as the members of Troop discretely maintaining a security perimeter around her would have not obliged by moving out of the way: in a collision between television crew and Troop, the television crew would come off far worse.

 

“Yes, and could be produced if anyone investigated us for something.  It was the same when I was in Geneva.”  Kate stopped by the next show garden which looked much more to Max’s liking as it had interesting planting that provided an array of flowers in a soothing purple and blue palette.

 

“And the General’s....” Max looked at the garden.  “Are those delphiniums?” he asked, surprising himself with his sudden burst of horticultural knowledge.

 

“Close, and yes, Win’s diary would also be classed as a document of record.  Which is why it’s best if we manage to make tomorrow’s conversation last long enough to be noted  Then the cross-referencing works..”

 

“Lupins then?” He looked at her and, seeing her nod, groaned.  “I always get those wrong.”

 

“The clue is the shape of the flowers.”

 

“They’re both spikes...oh, wait, you mean the shape of the flowers that make up the spike, right?” 

 

“Yes.  If the individual flower looks like a… what’s the name of those knitted hats you wear?  That are like a balaclava but without the eyeholes?”  Kate was many things, but familiar with the terminology of ‘young people’s’ fashion she was not.

 

“Beanies.  Those flowers on the spikes look a bit like beanies, so that makes them lupins?”

 

“Correct.”  Kate considered the garden again.  “Planting’s not bad, but too many alliums for me, though Os would like it…” she carried on walking, knowing that Max would catch her up in a moment.

 

“I liked that one.”  Max looked at the garden she’d stopped by.  “I don’t like this one.”

 

“Why?”  Not that Kate disagreed with him, but she was interested in his opinion.

 

“It’s…” he studied it thoughtfully, trying to work out exactly what it was that he wasn’t liking, “...artificial.”

 

“Everything’s real in it though,” pointed out Kate, reading the brief ‘design concept’ summary on the information board.

 

“I don’t mean made of plastic artificial, more…constructed artificial, like that blue flower and pink flower shouldn’t be seen together?”

 

“Well they shouldn’t,” agreed Kate, finding that now he’d spotted it, that was exactly the problem.  “Bluebells and hydrangea have totally different flowering seasons.”  Mystery solved as to what was irking her about that garden, and deciding she’d had her fill of the show gardens ‘in person’ since she could see them very nicely on the television programmes, she changed topic again.  “Where’s Os?”

 

“With Gordy, next garden on the other side.”  Max began escorting her through the ‘crowd’, knowing that as busy as it felt today, it was only going to be busier once it opened to the ‘public’ from tomorrow.  “What does Os know?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nothing at all?” he looked at Kate in disbelief.

 

“She thinks we’re all here as guests of Gordy,” she explained quickly, seeing Gordy waving at them and walking down the show garden that had been sponsored by his newspaper.  One of the better perks, as far as the staff of the paper were concerned, was the opportunity for the chosen few amongst  the journalists who worked there to bring their families and friends along to the Chelsea Flower Show for a day out and an opportunity to enjoy the occasion.  That Gordy had the opportunity to entertain some friends in the garden was genuine - he’d worked very hard in the last couple of years and was doing very well for himself on the newspaper; that he’d wanted to share the opportunity with Kate, Osgood and Max was also true.  However, the fact that they were at the show today, the Monday when the show was visited by the very select and well-connected, the day when the judging happened?  That was Kate’s doing, and done with the assistance of Gordy and his section editor who was only too happy to help - he’d have helped anyway, having taken a shine to Kate some years earlier when he’d been the Geneva Correspondent for a different newspaper, but the promise of a favour being owed by the woman who ruled at the Tower was not worth letting pass by.  That no one really knew what ‘Dr Stewart’ did at the Tower (the Ministry of Defence being remarkably good at saying nothing) made the favour all the more valuable.  

 

“Then don’t forget to greet him like the proud mother you’re supposed to be…” teased Max, ducking instinctively in anticipation of the tap on the head that was headed his way as he vaulted the little rope barrier that separated show garden from show crowd and landed lightly on his feet next to his brother who’d just made it to the front of the garden.

 

“Hello Mum.”

 

“Hello,”  Kate leaned forwards and reciprocated his proffered kiss on the cheek, “you’re looking very smart,” she observed, smiling in thanks when Gordy unhooked the little rope so she could step through rather than having to follow Max’s more athletic example.  “Is this the new suit?”

 

“Yes.  It’s amazing…” Gordy self-consciously buttoned and unbuttoned his jacket, feeling rather sharp in it, “...thank you again, it was a great birthday present.”  He just about resisted the urge to do a little spin to show it off as like Max’s, was from Savile Row and was his first fully tailored suit.  It had been some time in the making, but their respective 25th birthday presents from Kate and Osgood had been contributions towards getting a suit each made for them from the same place that, 5 years earlier, they’d been taken to when Max needed his uniform cap.  Max and Gordy had had a lot of fun in the last 12 months or so going to the tailors for fittings, discussions about what sort of fabrics and cuts would make them look ‘sharp’ and, most importantly of all, what they could have for their linings.  “Drink?” He passed her the requested Gin and Tonic.

 

“Thank you.”  Kate took the glass and glanced over his shoulder, taking in the garden with the critical eye of a keen gardener and noting who else was visiting the garden with the sharp eye of the consummate diplomat.

 

“When was your latest article?” she asked, looking over his other shoulder to see Osgood and, to neither Gordy’s or Max’s surprise, somehow manage to have a whole conversation with her just by looking.

 

“Last Wednesday - the final one in my series on technology and its impact on the global brand.  Teaser on the front page.”  Gordy wasn’t offended that she needed to check - she was a diligent reader of all of his articles, had been since he worked on the school newsletter, but realistically, rarely had the opportunity to read them in ‘real time’, instead reading anything that the clippings service had collated for her on a Sunday morning with a croissant and coffee.  She was, unsurprisingly, an incredibly focussed reader and remembered his articles well, usually better than he did, making for entertaining Sunday Lunch discussions at times.  “But don’t worry - he’s not here.”

 

“He isn’t?” Kate took a sip from her drink, automatically noting it was strong and going to need to be finished by Os as it was very floral in flavour, her expression giving nothing away although she was very relieved to hear she wouldn’t have to ‘play nice’ with Gordy’s section editor - it was rather embarrassing how bad he was at flirting with her, with it being so atrocious that his wife had tried giving him hints on how to improve.

 

“No, but I’m supposed to encourage you to have dinner with him.”  There was something in the way Gordy relayed the message that made Kate suspicious.

 

“When?”

 

“Am I supposed to encourage you?” Gordy guided her further into the garden as he sought clarification before he answered, not wishing to continue their conversation just inside it when there was a garden full of shaded alcoves and comfortable seats to relax in, including one that was already occupied by Osgood.

 

“When am I supposed to have dinner with him?” clarified Kate, not remotely concerned about the invitation - she’d known him for years and known his wife for longer.  More importantly, his wife was very aware and amused by his apparent crush on her and equally aware of her relationship with Osgood, of which she’d approved since the first time she’d met her, more than a decade ago.

 

“No idea.”

 

“No idea about what?” asked Os, returning Kate’s smile and accepting the glass that Kate had immediately passed her, momentarily perplexed until she’d taken a sip of it, recognising the very floral bouquet that the gin had and knowing Kate’s preference was for a drier, more strongly juniper flavoured gin.  Then again, after the morning Kate had endured, a G&T was a G&T, so Osgood didn’t finish it.

 

“What I’m going to try and pitch as my next feature theme,” improvised Gordy quickly, realising that Osgood probably shouldn’t be told about the possible dinner plan just yet, as that would quickly lead into questions about why the favour was owed..

 

“How much say do you have?” asked Osgood, shifting along the bench so that Kate could sit down next to her, considering Gordy’s options.  “I’m not sure I agreed with all your points, but it was an interesting article last week.”

 

“Ah, thanks…” Gordy had missed yesterday’s lunch to attend a friend’s wedding, so hadn’t yet had an opportunity to hear Osgood’s thoughts on his article, “...and quite a lot actually, if I come up with good ideas early enough.  I’ve got about 3 weeks before it gets set in stone.”  He drank some more of his champagne in order to give him a moment to gather his thoughts, not having actually intending to discuss this properly with Osgood and his mother at this exact moment.  “I need to check exactly when I’m expected to file copy though, I’ll do that tomorrow.”  Relieved he had such an easy way to shut down the conversation, he changed the subject when he realised Osgood was now drinking Kate’s Gin and Tonic.  “I’ll go and see if I can get you a better G&T, I forgot to ask Tim for a London Dry...”

 

“And suddenly he’s 15 again…” observed Kate dryly, watching him depart in a rather ungainly tangle of long limbs as he managed to turn around and not spill his drink down Soph who had been coming to join them and suddenly decided to head back towards the makeshift bar area with him instead.

 

“He likes her.”  Osgood studied the two younger journalists as they met up with Max and Tim by the bar, Max’s champagne flute no doubt containing something non-alcoholic like sparkling elderflower rather than champagne.  “And she likes him but doesn’t like me.”

 

“I like you…” teased Kate, glancing sideways at her girlfriend, playfully nudging Os with her elbow when she saw her smiling shyly, “...and she probably thinks you’re Gordy’s girlfriend…” continued Kate, starting to feel her shoulders unknot slightly for the first time all day as she was able to just sit and ‘be’ in Osgood’s company without any interruptions.  On that basis, this rather ‘safe’ show garden (Kate was struggling to see how it was discernibly different to the last three or four gardens the paper had sponsored) was not without its merits.

 

“Hardly…” disagreed Osgood, returning Kate’s elbowing with a reciprocating shoulder nudge of her own.  “I wasn’t expecting to see the Dogs on the entrance?” She looked thoughtfully at Kate, trying to read her girlfriend’s carefully concealed weariness (she doubted either Gordy or Max had noticed it) for any signs that there was something to be worried about  _ on their day off. _

 

“It’s nothing.”  Kate’s attempted shrug and dismissal of the question earned her a rarely seen ‘Osgood’s not impressed’ look which was rumoured to be the reason why the UNIT London scientists had been particularly well behaved and not destroyed much expensive lab equipment (by UNIT standards) in the last couple of years.  “The PM got to me…” sighed Kate, accepting the strong G&T back from Osgood and taking a decent gulp, appreciating Osgood’s reasoning that a well made G&T with gin she didn’t like was better than having to recall her morning without anything to drink at all.

 

“I thought as much.”  Osgood accepted the glass back and, not wishing to get her hand wet from the inevitable condensation on the glass, put it on the floor.  “There was no reason for you to go to Catford.”

 

“I know, but since we also agreed that it was best if I didn’t explain why I’d had to go to Carshalton…” Kate took a moment to both admire the garden they were sat in but to also reflect on what had happened in the last 24 hours, thanks to those ultimately friendly but potentially rather explosive confused space tourists and their 1920s era A-Z.  

 

Impressively, they had managed to navigate all of the As and Bs before UNIT had spotted them, but in their attempts to visit Camberwell before Camden (Lock and Town), they’d damaged their ship.  UNIT had managed to catch up with them at Carshalton but not before they had dislodged their nose cone, which housed both their reserve propellant tanks and harmonic shield generator (which was in part why UNIT could now spot them).  Fortunately, their propellant strongly resembled custard powder, so no real damage was done (relative to what could have happened if they’d been one of the species that favoured a particle or nuclear physics based propulsion system), but the sudden covering of a moderately picturesque London suburb in a yellow powder that was technically classified by the civilian  authorities as an explosive (given enough quantity, and it was generally agreed that an entire suburb going yellow was quite a sizeable amount) did enable the ‘chemical spill’ cover story to be used without too much difficulty.

 

“What’s so special about Catford?” asked Osgood eventually, failing to see any significance, “I mean to the PM?”

 

“Politically rather a lot apparently.”  Kate relaxed back on the bench and in an impressively skilled display of careful nonchalance, rested her arm across the back of the bench and fiddled with the buttons on her blue shirt with her other hand.  “Which is significant to my election campaign but, whilst an act of low cunning, hadn’t escaped the notice of the razor sharp advisors that pull our elected leader’s strings,” sighed Kate, at a total loss as to what else she might be able to do to get this latest PM to understand that she was completely disinterested in UK electoral politics and that there was no, and never would be any election campaign.

 

“Your shirt is perfect.”  Osgood instinctively reached out and batted Kate’s fingers away from her buttons, knowing that she always worried that the slightly over-spaced buttons would result in a minor ‘wardrobe malfunction’ by gaping.  Any other colour and this shirt would have been discarded from Kate’s wardrobe long ago, but it was Osgood’s favourite, so instead it stayed.  “But won’t be if you crumple it,” she added pragmatically, taking the sting out of her rebuke by leaning back in the seat, effectively allowing Kate to put her arm around her as they shifted fractionally closer - not so close it was obvious they were anything other than good friends and colleagues, but close enough that they knew the other was there.  “What else did you do?”

 

“How…” Kate looked at Osgood and smiled when she saw her girlfriend’s eyebrow twitch as she removed her glasses and, using her handkerchief carefully wiped away the thin sheen of pollen that had gathered on the lenses.  “You know me too well.”

 

“No such thing.”  Osgood put her now sparkling clean glasses back on and looked at Kate curiously.  “What did you do?”

 

“I left the PM in Catford.”

 

“Kate…”

 

“Not left left,” protested Kate, realising how she could be misunderstood, “we’d gone out in the PM’s car.  I just failed to share my helicopter back.”

 

“What are you and Win going to talk about tomorrow morning then?” asked Osgood, trying not to look too amused at her girlfriend’s antics, knowing that she really shouldn’t be doing anything to encourage her less than diplomatic behaviour but having every sympathy with the situation - the PM really was an irritating manipulator even without this constant paranoia that Kate was secretly running a political campaign that would supposedly see her sweep to power in the next General Election, no matter how many times it was pointed out that such a move held absolutely no interest to Kate.

 

“She’s asked me to find out about those barbeque tables - Flo’s tempted I think.”  Kate tipped her head back and closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the novelty of actually being able to sit out in the sunshine during the day without feeling guilty about being away from her desk - this was her day off after all.  “But I’m probably going to have to do the budget meetings for Win as my ‘punishment’.”  Kate turned her head sideways and looked lazily at Osgood, knowing that would mean a fair bit of the summer spent in Geneva, a summer that hopefully Osgood would spend in Geneva with her.

 

“You did this deliberately.”

 

“Did what deliberately?”

 

“All of it…”  Osgood shifted in the seat so she could look at Kate’s face without getting a crick in her neck, taking in the slight smirk and general ‘devil may care’ attitude that on many could be arrogance but on Kate… Osgood cleared her throat, conscious her cheeks were pinking as she realised she’d been looking in a staring sort of fashion at the open neck of that blue shirt that always managed to flop in just the right way to allow for just the right hint of chest and collarbones.  “You deliberately did something that Win has to ‘punish’ you for so that she can get you to do the budget negotiations…” Osgood caught her lower lip between her teeth as she continued to ponder what her girlfriend was up to, because she was definitely up to something, her gaze trailing slowly up her lover’s neck until she was looking her in the eye.  “And you did it today so that the call is tomorrow, when you and Win actually want to have a chat.  What’s the art show Flo wants to go to see that Win doesn’t?” She meant gossip, but even Os wasn’t prepared to risk accusing General Bambera and a Lethbridge-Stewart having a penchant for gossip, “and would never get into your diary unless it had to be ‘seen’ to be there should the record ever be checked.”  Osgood looked fondly at Kate as she reached forwards and moved a strand of blond hair away from where it was catching on Kate’s cheek.  “Am I right?”

 

“You’re always right…” agreed Kate, feeling the final weight of her irritating morning drop away from her as she lifted her head up so that she could meet Osgood part way…

 

* * *

  
  


“Oh.”

 

“Oh?”  Wondering what it was that had distracted Soph, Gordy turned around so he could see whatever it was that she’d seen over his shoulder, only to see Os leaning forwards and she and his mother having a brief, almost chaste kiss before settling back onto the bench and continuing their conversation.  “Ah, yes.”  He shot a pointed look at Max who was starting to chuckle, threatening him in the sort of way a lanky nerdy sort could only get away with when you were the UNIT Captain’s brother.  “Osgood’s basically Mum’s, uh friend, not mine...”

 

“Your Mum’s…” Soph wasn’t quite sure what she was intending to say next so was extra grateful when Max interrupted her.

 

“Mum’s Mum and Os is Osgood.  Don’t worry about anything other than that...oh, and don’t talk to Mum about gardening unless you  _ really  _ know your stuff.”  It was Max’s turn to glare at Gordy who appeared to have a rather dramatic case of the hiccups.  “What?”

 

“I’m the gardening correspondent.”

 

“Oh, uh…”  Not quite sure what to say next, Max concentrated on taking a careful sip of his ‘champagne’, as if savouring the vintage, trying to work out from what he knew about Soph whether this was a wind-up or not.  Unfortunately, the effect was rather lost on Gordy, who knew that his brother was drinking elderflower cordial and sparkling water from a champagne flute.  But in trying to resist the urge to tease Max further (even Gordy knew there were limits to what he could get away with, and teasing Max when he was drinking cordial because he was their mother’s armed protection was well over the line), his hiccups got even worse.  “What?”  Max looked from Gordy to Soph who, despite her concern for Gordy who was now coughing, was looking a little too knowing.  “What have I missed?”

 

“I’m not the gardening correspondent, not really,” explained Soph, seeing that Gordy’s coughing appeared to have helped him get his hiccups back under control, although he was still a little pink in the face.  “Gordy asked me to say that if you mentioned gardening.  But you haven’t until now...” Actually, she thought Gordy had only meant her to remember the joke that first time she’d met Max, but it was only now that she’d had the opportunity as most of their previous meetings had been brief and never got as further than the weather and immediate evening plans..

 

“Beast.”  Max conveyed what he thought of Gordy’s prank with a gentle, ‘brotherly’ shove that would ordinarily see him immediately retaliate, but as he straightened up, Gordy saw his mother eying him pointedly as she and Os were setting off from their bench to join them.

 

“Incoming…” warned Gordy, prompting both he and Max to instinctively square their ties, smooth their collars and check their cuffs, sparking Soph’s curiosity. 

 

“So what sort of stuff do you write?” Max timed the question so that Kate and Osgood would hear Soph’s answer, hopefully also distracting them from wanting to know what they’d been talking about immediately before.

 

“Oh, features for the  _ Lifestyle  _ section…”

 

“I didn’t realise your lot permitted lifestyles Gord?” 

 

“It’s called the Weekend edition Max,” interjected Kate smoothly, not fooled for one moment by the boys’ attempts to gloss over whatever it was that they had been teasing each other about, “and is the guide to how to spend all the money you made Monday to Friday.”  She stepped slightly to her right, forcing Gordy to take the half step back that was necessary for the little group to open out enough for there to be space between Gordy and Max for both Kate and Osgood to join in.  “Kate, Gordy’s Mum, you must be Soph?”

 

“Pleased to meet you.”  Soph automatically shifted her champagne glass from right hand hand to left and shook the hand Kate offered in greeting, returning the friendly handshake with one of her own, impressed that Kate’s handshake was neither limp nor crushing, just appropriately firm - not easy to do in Soph’s experience.  “And that’s spot on, about my articles.”  She nodded and smiled at Osgood, finding it easier to relax in her presence now she knew she wasn’t an intimate acquaintance of Gordy’s.  “The trials of renovating a stately home, racing your own vintage sports cars…”

 

“That sounds like my sort of weekend,” agreed Max, looking sideways at Kate and Osgood.

 

“No, you may not borrow the car, either of you.”  

 

“But…”  Max looked at Gordy for help, only to see him as surprised as Max was.

 

“What Os said,” confirmed Kate, a hint of smugness in her voice followed quickly by a sigh as she felt her mobile vibrating in her pocket.

 

“One extremely drinkable, very satisfying and therefore highly unfashionable proper gin and tonic for Dr Lethbridge-Stewart,” declared Tim, rejoining the group and proffering his second attempt at a gin and tonic for Kate, this time made with some gin that he knew would match Kate’s palate better, having managed to find the bottle of decidedly non-floral, juniper tasting Plymouth Dry Gin that was carefully concealed at the back of the drink stocks of the small bar that was set up in the corner of the garden’s little terrace.  He’d known it had to be somewhere, as it was rumoured that it was all the Chairman would drink, and therefore no social was ever organised without a bottle stashed somewhere for ‘emergency’ use only.

 

“Thanks Tim,” Kate took the gin and tonic with a smile as she reluctantly looked at the display, groaned and showed it to Osgood before excusing herself and taking a few steps away.  Neither Gordy or Osgood were surprised when Max thrust his glass in their general direction and followed her, keeping a respectful couple of paces away but nevertheless being alert.

 

“Problem?” asked Gordy carefully, holding his brother’s glass, knowing Osgood probably wouldn’t tell him even if they’d been at home.

 

“Not really…” Osgood finished what remained of Kate’s first drink, “that was a great G&T Tim, thanks.”

 

“Another?” Tim saw Osgood’s hesitation, “I can make you a not so strong one?”

 

“Actually, I was going to ask if you could use less tonic?”  She hadn’t worked out why people were raving about these ‘designer’ tonics when all they seemed to do was ruin the gin, but didn’t like to say so.

 

“Sure, back in a sec.”

 

“I didn’t know Tim liked making drinks so much…” observed Soph, watching her colleague saunter jauntily over to the drinks area.

 

“He does…” Gordy followed his friend’s progress across the garden,, unsurprised when he saw who the hired barman was, “...but he likes flirting with barmen even more.” Gordy returned his attention to Osgood and Soph.  “Uh oh.”

 

“What?”  Osgood was only partially curious as to what had caught his attention, more interested in watching the ‘plain clothes’ UNIT soldiers from Troop who had seemingly out of nowhere, managed to drift through the crowds of celebrities and other invited guests who were milling around the show and start casually congregating around the front of this garden.  She must remember to congratulate Max sometime, his team was certainly very, very good.  She wouldn’t have noticed the UNIT protective guard across the front of the show garden unless she’d recognised the individuals from the Tower, some of whom had actually been protectively guarding her since she’d been met by Lt Chun, but she’d failed to notice them.

 

“Mum’s foot’s tapping.  Who’s she on the phone to?”

 

“The Prime Minister’s Office.”  Osgood was amused by Soph’s reaction, having clearly not entirely believed her earlier in the car.  “Or at least, I think it’s probably the Prime Minister in person…quite cross too I’d imagine.”

 

“Your mother made the PM cross?” Soph looked at Gordy in amazement - she’d not exactly believed him when he’d described her as ‘M but with aliens’, although she was beginning to think she need to change her views on that.

 

“One of her hobbies, behind bridge and gardening…” he took a sip of his champagne, sensing from his mother’s body language that the call was probably going to be over fairly quickly.

 

“And paint drying,” added Osgood, not wanting Soph to get the wrong idea about Kate who really didn’t enjoy baiting the PM, it was just too easily done it seemed.

 

“Because it’s dull or doesn’t require any skill?”

 

“Both, actually.”  Osgood’s attention was drawn to the rather noisy arrival of two more people to the show garden, as was Soph and Gordy’s.

 

“Oh, Oli and Ash have arrived…” said Gordy, noticing their slightly disgruntled expressions as they finally arrived in the relative calm of the show garden.

 

“They do not look happy.”

 

“Who doesn’t look happy?” asked Kate, her phone call over and her phone returned to her pocket.

 

“Oli and Ash, they shared the car with us down here,” explained Soph, gesturing in the right direction so Kate could see the two unhappy journalists trying to distract the barman from Tim in order to get some stiff drinks.

 

“They were mean to Os,” said Gordy simply, seeing his mother’s eyebrow raise in an unspoken request to keep talking.  “Not mean nasty, just… sneering, so we left them in the car.”

 

“And?”  Kate looked at Osgood, her expression one of concern rather than worry.

 

“The extra security was creating quite a lot of delays.  You’d have beaten us here if Lt Chun hadn’t walked us through…” Osgood met Kate’s gaze with a steady one of her own that once again saw them have another conversation with just an exchange of looks.

 

“For which both Tim and I are really grateful,” said Soph, suddenly realising that she and Tim had perhaps not said thank you properly at the time.

 

“You’re welcome.”  Osgood smiled at Soph, sensing she was a bit nervous of her and Kate for some reason.  “And don’t worry about Oli and Ash....” she added, not entirely sure why Troop were here in such numbers, as she didn’t think there had been anything happening that warranted such close security on Greyhounds today, but confident that they had noticed the loudly grumbling journalists.  “They won’t be any trouble.”

 

“Sorry about the interruption,” said Kate by way of changing the topic and getting their conversation going again by returning to their earlier discussion, “and no Gordy, you may not borrow the sports car.  You’re not insured on it for one thing.”

 

“But I am,” preened Max, pleased to get one over his brother, rejoining their group having taken a moment to survey the crowd in front of the garden and satisfy himself that Troop were in place, hoping that Osgood had forgotten her earlier declaration that neither of them were borrowing it for a weekend’s jaunt..

 

“Still not borrowing it Max,” said Osgood, becoming conscious of the neck of her shirt being open when the breeze caught it gently.

 

“But…” Before Max could try and work out how to out-reason Osgood on why he really should be able to borrow the sports car, Soph had taken up the conversation.

 

“What’s the car?” she asked, sensing that she probably wasn’t going to have to try  to feign interest in some low-powered BMW convertible or similar.  She was starting to realise that  Gordy’s summary of Kate earlier was not as far from the truth as she had assumed.

 

“Aston Martin something.”  As far as Kate was concerned, it had 4 wheels on the ground, two doors, a very powerful engine and was lovely to drive.  After that, she was less concerned about the car and more concerned about whether it had the secure communications connections with the Tower and Geneva.  Fully integrated blue/red lights and sirens for both UK and continental Europe, the bulletproof glass, bodywork and tyres were a given (rarely needed for actual bullets, quite useful for alien saliva and its ilk) and the ejection seat was merely a rumour.  However the air conditioned glove box was not, and very useful should she and Osgood ever manage to actually take a day off in London without the office intruding, nevermind being able to plan a road trip a little further afield for a picnic.

 

“DB9, customised coupe,” Osgood put her hand in her jacket pocket and pulled out the neatly folded golden coloured silk bowtie which she proceeded to put around her neck before doing up her shirt’s top button..

 

“You have a Q team DB9 coupe?” Soph’s opinion of Kate was increasing by the minute - in her line of feature writing, she met quite a lot of people with an awful lot more swagger and rather less justification that it seemed Kate had in her little finger.

 

“Do I?” asked Kate, looking at Osgood for her confirmation, seeing the tie hanging around her lover’s neck.  “You want me to?”

 

“Sort of.” Osgood looked at Kate, “Please.”  Osgood took a step towards Kate and took her gin and tonic off her so that Kate, now with both hands free, could quickly and neatly fashion the narrow strip of silk into a crisp bowtie in the ‘skinny’ style that hinted to the 1950s.  

 

There was something about the way Osgood stood, totally relaxed with no hint of any concern or stress in her face as Kate carefully worked with the material that needed to be tied tight but not too tight around her neck, that told Soph a lot about their relationship with each other and was just… calming.  Whatever it was that was going on, and clearly something was happening as even the most politically unaware  _ lifestyle  _ journalist (and she was rather more aware than that) could work out that you didn’t get to arrive at the Chelsea Flower Show by helicopter, get waved through extra security and get the Prime Minister calling you in a grumpy mood if you were a ‘nobody’ and nothing was going on.  But despite all of that, here were two women who were clearly ‘somebody’, heavily involved in a ‘something’ that was quite significant and yet they were still able to find the time to visit Gordy at the Flower Show, to spare a few minutes to talk about anything and nothing with his friends and brother, to tie a bowtie and share a drink.

 

“Done…” murmured Kate quietly once she’d tweaked the tie to her satisfaction, running her fingers lightly down the line of Os’s shirt buttons once she’d finished, helping the shirt to settle now the collar was fastened, slyly unfastening the jacket button when she got to it.  “And very smart.”

 

“Thank you.” Osgood handed back Kate’s drink and, repositioning her glasses so they once more felt comfortable, turned back to Soph, Gordy, and Max prepared to give them her full attention.

 

“How do you ‘sort of’ have a Q team DB9?” asked Soph, once it felt like she was no longer interrupting a private moment.

 

“It’s been ‘boffined’ as well as customised.”  Gordy’s grin was infectious, and Soph found herself looking between Gordy, Max and Kate, who all sported similar versions of his grin whilst Osgood’s smile was a little more wary, her lip caught between her teeth.

 

“‘Boffined’?”  Soph thought for a moment, “you mean like James Bond?”

 

“There’s no ejector seat,” said Kate, catching Soph completely by surprise that her question had been taken as a serious one, after all, she’d intended it as a joke.

 

“Only really feasible in convertibles, and those are very difficult to make…” Osgood was going to say alien proof, but changed her mind at the last moment to a more neutral sounding, “...properly robust.”

 

“Not to mention how often it rains,” agreed Max, really not liking the tactical problems a ‘soft top’ car would pose from a security perspective.

 

“But yes, I suppose you could say it’s a little like James Bond.”  Kate shrugged before realising there was something she’d not understood, “what’s Q team?”

 

“It’s the in-house customisation design team at Aston Martin…” began Soph, thinking back to the odd article she’d done about various aspects of the ‘super-rich’ lifestyle in which she’d started to understand the difference between the rich and the  _ rich _ .  “And it makes the car even more personal.”  She was beginning to understand why Gordy and Max wanted to borrow it, and why Kate and Osgood didn’t want to let them drive it.

 

“I can safely say this one’s unique.”  As she spoke, Kate’s fingers stretched out and caught Osgood’s hand and their fingers instinctively and quietly tangled together, with Kate’s gentle squeeze silently communicating to Osgood that she wasn’t exactly talking about the car.

 

“Awesomely unique,” agreed Gordy, grinning at the thought of the car which, all joking aside, was a particularly special piece of engineering both in terms of the car but also everything that was added to it to meet the UNIT specification.  “Umm, I’m sorry Os, but I think Tim’s got a bit distracted…”

 

“That’s ok.”  Osgood wasn’t overly concerned - she’d had plenty of the first one that Tim had brought over for Kate, and she didn’t really  _ need  _ another drink, it had just been a nice opportunity she didn’t normally get that she would have enjoyed taking had it materialised.  As it was, spending a Monday afternoon at the Chelsea Flower Show with Kate was a lovely change from the Tower and all that UNIT entailed; enjoying the show whilst also celebrating Gordy’s success at establishing himself as a journalist with Max there too made it even more special.  “We’re here, it’s not raining…” she looked cautiously at the sky which was actually starting to break up and patches of blue sky were appearing in between the luminous grey cumulus clouds that carried a low risk of rain but nevertheless had looked threatening when they were denser.  “It’s perfect.”

 

“About that…” began Kate, putting down her glass, prompting Gordy and Max to share a smile, and Gordy to discreetly get his phone out of his pocket and turn on the camera.

 

“What have you done?” asked Osgood, looking curiously at Kate, trying to come up with possible scenarios.

 

“I got you something,” explained Kate, letting go of Osgood’s hand just long enough to slip her arm around her lover’s hips, Osgood’s unbuttoned jacket falling open as Kate held her in a loose hug.  “A flower…” continued Kate as, without obvious thought, they both moved their feet ever so slightly so that it was more comfortable for Osgood to mirror Kate’s hold, disturbing the line of Kate’s jacket slightly which, unlike Osgood’s, just had a straightforward dark navy lining.  As Gordy took the first of his pictures of the couple, he caught sight of Osgood’s lining and his smile became a broad grin when he realised that her outfit was ‘Osgood quirky’ after all.

 

“Are those…” whispered Soph, stepping back so she was able to whisper her question to Gordy, but also give Kate and Osgood a little bit more space for what she sensed was something of a special moment.

 

“Question marks on her jacket lining?  Yeah,” replied Gordy, pleased to see Soph’s reaction to the unexpected design was a positive one if her whispered ‘awesome’ was anything to go by.  Osgood was something of an ‘acquired’ taste, and you didn’t get very far with a Lethbridge-Stewart (born or adopted) if you didn’t ‘get’ Osgood.

 

“You didn’t need to…” mumbled Osgood, smiling shyly when she remembered the occasions when Kate had brought home a bouquet of irises (no small logistical feat in February) or woken up one morning and seen a new group of her favourite flowers coming into bloom in the garden somewhere and a mug of coffee by the bed.  “The garden’s already lovely and full of all my favourites…” she added, thinking of the wonderful oases Kate’s enthusiasm had created over the course of their relationship, first on her little terrace at the flat the boys now lived in, then at their house.

 

“I know I didn’t need to, but I wanted to…” Kate gave Osgood’s waist a gentle squeeze by way of emphasis of her point, “as a thank you for putting up with me.”

 

“I don’t put up with you...” corrected Osgood, thinking back to their conversation on New Year’s Day, “...idiotic thing, my silly fool…” she continued, shaking her head gently with a fondness and confidence that could only come from a more than a decade of being together, of loving each other, “...I love you.  Quite different.”  Osgood confirmed this statement with a sharp nod, dislodging her glasses in the process, prompting her to immediately reposition them.

 

“And I love you...” Kate rested her forehead against her lover’s as she reached around and held her in a tighter embrace, with both arms wrapped around Osgood’s waist, Kate’s hands resting in the small of her lover’s back, underneath the jacket.  Feeling Osgood’s hands slipping around her waist and catching in the waistband of her trousers, under her own jacket, Kate closed her eyes and just savoured the moment, once again counting any star that was classified as ‘lucky’ that she had this amazing person in her life. “...even when I’m tiddly-pom.”

 

“You’re especially loveable when you’re tiddly-pom…” whispered Osgood, losing interest in continuing their conversation with words as instead, she moved her head fractionally and was rewarded with her lover’s lips, enabling their conversation to continue with the delicate nips of teeth and deft licks of tongue that, after more than a decade of love together, was a language that they were very articulate in.


	3. Chapter 3

“Gord?”

 

“Yeah?”  Gordy took another picture of Kate and Os, knowing he was probably grinning like a fool which was definitely not what almost-26 year olds were supposed to do when their mother was ‘having a moment’ with her girlfriend, but it was so rare for the two women to let down their guard in public like this, being both naturally incredibly private.  Not that it was actually that public as, based on the structure of the garden and the planting on the bank that the designer had created, they were effectively screened from everyone except Max, Gordy and Soph.  And Max and Gordy probably didn’t really count.

 

“Is she coming?” asked Max, keeping an eye on Kate and Osgood but more focussed on making sure he knew where his team were and that they were ready.

 

“Umm…” It was a good thing that Troop were ready and that Kate and Osgood were rather engrossed in each other as Max’s head snapped round so he could glare at his brother before his expression softened when he saw how nervous Gordy was.

 

“Have you asked her?”  Whereas his earlier question had been asked as a security commander, needing to know how many people needed to be escorted, this time his voice was full of genuine brotherly concern and support, remembering all too well how nervous he’d been, and he’d had the advantage of Jess knowing Kate and Osgood (admittedly before she understood their non-UNIT connection) when she’d been formally introduced to them as his girlfriend, not that any introduction could ever be formal if one of the parties was only wearing a towel...

 

“No, but uh…” his eyes darted from Max to Soph and back to Max again, prompting Max to roll his eyes and shake his head with amusement.

 

“You want me to ask?”  It wasn’t a serious offer - they were brothers yes, but he _was_ an Officer and some things were just not done.  It did however serve as sufficient ‘threat’ to encourage Gordy to believe he had to find some confidence from somewhere.

 

“What! No!”  Straightening his already straight tie knot, as if implying that was the reason for his sudden squeakiness, he cleared his throat and walked over to Soph who, in deference to the family ‘moment’ that she’d found herself observing, had stepped away to give them a bit of space.  “Soph?”

 

“Yes?”  She turned to look at him, having been ostensibly admiring the blossom on the tree immediately past where Kate and Osgood were stood.

 

“Umm, would you like to come?  With me?” Nervousness meant he mumbled and addressed the hem of her dress, which was just a couple of inches below her knee.

 

“Come?”  Soph looked from Gordy to Max and back to Gordy, confused.  “But we’ve only just got here.  And where?”

 

“The Grand Pavilion...”  He held out his hand to her, grinning in the way that she’d already discovered was very difficult to say no to as he somehow managed to convince her that he was supremely confident she’d have just the right amount of fun without being in any danger.

 

“Yes.”  Her mother would no doubt be cross if she knew, but Soph was fairly certain her Aunt Jo would have overruled - there had to be a clause about not knowing what you were agreeing to was still alright if the ‘date’ came with his parents (or equivalent), brother and, if her hunch was correct, a fair amount of additional security… if only for the anecdote.

  


* * *

 

 

“I have another confession to make.”

 

“Okay.” Osgood waited patiently for Kate’s explanation, occupying herself with sorting out Kate’s shirt collar which had managed to ‘flop’ into a less elegant position than Osgood knew it could be made to remain in.

 

“We’re not really Gordy’s guests, at least, we would be, if we came tomorrow.  But today he’s our guest.”  Kate cleared her throat, rarely felt nerves gathering in the pit of her stomach as she ‘confessed’ to her girlfriend.  “His editor agreed to let him invite us today so you wouldn’t find out…”

 

“So the Dogs…” Rather than being cross with Kate for the subterfuge, Osgood began to smile as the pieces of her unsolved puzzle now dropped into place, pleased that the mystery was untangled so neatly.  “They’re not here because of Carshalton?”

 

“No, nor Catford.”  Kate saw Osgood’s smile grow and understood what was behind it.  “So no, you hadn’t miscalculated the threat assessment.  The Dogs were always going to be here today.  But it was _supposed_ to be our day off…” grumbled Kate, knowing that by UNIT standards, she’d actually had a relatively straightforward morning for her day off, but that was besides the point.  She’d had different plans for 11am this morning, and they had involved rather more Os and a total absence of elected politicians.

 

“Because you got me a flower?”

 

“Want to go see it?”  For all her certainty that what she’d done was a good idea, Kate was starting to feel a bit apprehensive… what if Os didn’t like it?

 

“Where is it?”  No matter how exciting she might be finding something, and despite her assurances that Kate didn’t need to spoil her with flowers, Osgood was still inclined to look before she leapt more often than not - she was definitely curious to see what it was about this flower that required the Dogs, but this was a Flower Show: there was pollen everywhere.

 

“The Grand Pavilion…” Kate slipped her hand in her jacket pocket and pulled out something Osgood immediately recognised.   “You want this?” she guessed, offering the ‘preventative’ inhaler that, along with the anti-histamine tablets she’d taken that morning, became Osgood’s best friend (ahead of her mass spectrometer, and that was saying something) during pollen season.  It was one thing to be appropriately medicated to cope with a drinks reception in a show garden, quite another to enter the pollen hellmouth that was the Grand Pavilion at the Chelsea Flower Show.

 

“Thanks.”  As Osgood made use of the inhaler, Gordy returned their glasses to the bar area and Max discretely reattached his radio earpiece and mic, alerting Troop that they were almost ready.  Soph was, at Max’s request, working out how to attach the neat little coloured cardboard square on its matching thread to her dress - past experience at other events of the London ‘Season’ had her familiar with the elegant version of the nightclub wristband that, in this instance, denoted her having access to the Grand Pavilion.  It was just a little bit awkward that she’d not worn a particularly easy dress to attach it to, but by the time Gordy had returned, she’d got it in place, the bright blue standing out very vividly against her dusky pink dress.

 

“Shall we?” asked Kate as she pocketed Osgood’s inhaler once it was again surplus to requirements, glancing at Max and Gordy, who was holding Soph’s hand.

 

“Lead on Mum,” encouraged Gordy, knowing from the twitch of her lips that she’d already guessed Soph was perhaps rather more than just a fellow journalist but relieved to see the wink that told him she approved.

 

“Max?”  Although this was a family occasion, Kate was grateful that Max was working - it was frustrating enough that she couldn’t have this day without the Dogs, but there was no way she would have coped with the Dogs and Captain Carter.  At least with Max leading Troop, she was confident that they would be able to enjoy their time at the Flower Show without feeling their necessary security being overly heavy-handed.

 

“We’re ready when you are Mum.”  A less respected Officer with a less respected Mother might have heard sniggers and chuckles over the radio from his team, but Max knew that it didn’t matter what he called her - authority was bestowed but respect was earned, and she’d earned the respect of Troop long before Max had arrived to lead them and he, in turn, had earned their respect soon after arriving and long before they’d discovered he was her son.  

 

“Os?”  Kate offered her girlfriend her hand, her silver greyhound cufflink glinting when it caught in the bright sunlight that was suddenly drenching the garden.

 

“Do you know the way?” asked Osgood, her eyes bright with excitement as she took Kate’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

 

“Sort of,” said Kate vaguely, as they stepped out into the ‘crowd’ of the Main Avenue, for once pleased to have the ‘Dogs’ escort as it meant they could just enjoy the stroll rather than have to concentrate on pushing their way through people determined to go somewhere else.  For all the frustration that the extra security brought in terms of having only a notional sense of privacy and a very limited opportunity to be spontaneous in what they decided to do next, there were some upsides starting with not having to worry about getting lost or jostled.  

 

“Sort of?” asked Osgood, amused by her girlfriend’s answer, her amusement earning her a gentle, very ‘un-Greyhound One’ shove as Kate’s shoulder pushed against hers  as they continued to stroll down the Main Avenue towards the entrance to the Grand Pavilion.  

 

“I know which exhibitor we’re going to, just not where they are.”

 

“Only you…” teased Osgood affectionately, confirming that there was absolutely no criticism in her comment by squeezing Kate’s hand again, silently and privately conveying the rest of her statement to her ‘silly fool and idiotic thing’ that she’d loved for so long, her stomach flip-flopping still when she felt Kate’s answering squeeze as they continued to stroll along, not noticing their strides instinctively adjusting so they stayed in step.

 

“I’d meant to look it up,” protested Kate, feeling muscles relaxing that she’d not noticed were tense as she started to pay a bit more attention to the stands they were walking past as they neared the Pavilion entrance, “but I got distracted...”

 

“Carshalton?” guessed Osgood, only to feel her hand pulled back as something caught Kate’s eye, prompting Os to glance back to see what it was.  “Greenhouses, of course.”

 

“What? No…” Kate looked at Osgood who was in danger of wheezing so hard was she trying to not laugh.  “Orangeries,” corrected Kate, abandoning any notion of total innocence.

 

“That’s basically a posh Victorian greenhouse Mum,” pointed out Gordy helpfully from just behind them, earning him a glare from his mother when she turned to look at him, having momentarily forgotten he and his new-ish girlfriend were behind them.

 

“And Ms Abillou is a very complex assignment,” retorted Kate, emphasising her point with a decidedly juvenile stuck out tongue, letting him know that his claims of missing the last few family dinners for a ‘complex assignment’ hadn’t actually been as good as he’d thought.

 

“O….s….” groaned Gordy, blushing at the accuracy of his mother’s assertion whilst wrapping his arm around Soph’s shoulders in a mixture of defensiveness and relief. “Mum’s being silly...”

 

“Yes she is,” agreed Osgood, her breathing back under control as they stepped from the now bright sunshine into the shade of the Grand Pavilion, their gentle walking pace slowing to a stop as they crossed the threshold into the Pavilion itself, the Dogs forming a protective ring around them family group whilst ostensibly they continued their teasing, although the primary reason was to allow Osgood to adjust to the pollen heavy air and use her inhalers again if she wanted to.  “My silly idiotic thing…” she confirmed, looking at Kate happily, Gordy forgotten as, eyes meeting, she was reminded of so many wonderful little moments when it had been just her and Kate, being silly or serious but very much together.  “Thank you…”

 

“What for?” Serious now, Kate wrapped her arm around Osgood’s waist, the rest of the universe forgotten about, they concentrated just on each other, oblivious to the busy Flower Show around them.

 

“Being you…and my flower…” Osgood’s nose twitched as she tried to shift her glasses into a more comfortable position without having to move either the hand that was now resting on Kate’s waist or let go of Kate’s hand.

 

“You’re the one who puts up with me all these years, a flower is the least I could do…” declared Kate, starting to lean forwards, intending on  taking Osgood’s mind off her glasses with a tender kiss that contained thanks for the years already lived and loved and a promise for the years to come when instead she felt her trouser pocket vibrate.  Try as she might to ignore it, her phone was the pocket under Osgood’s hand, the hand that was worming into Kate’s pocket and had pulled out the phone.  Frowning, Osgood handed the phone to Kate, knowing that as much as they might like to ignore the Prime Minister, Kate really couldn’t.  “Prime Minister…” Slumping forwards theatrically, making Os smile at her antics, Kate rested her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder whilst she waited for the democratically elected but somewhat paranoid politician to get to the point, assuming there was one….

  


* * *

 

 

“What exactly has your Mum got Osgood?” asked Soph quietly, her arm round her boyfriend’s waist as they waited with Max for them to be ready to resume their stroll.

 

“A flower.”  Gordy hadn’t meant his answer to be a smart-alec one, so was a little taken aback when he felt her give his tie a sharp but playful yank.  “Hey!  What was that for?” he asked, looking to Max for support as he self-consciously straightened the knot again.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t getting much help from Max.

 

“He can’t help it, it’s in his genes…” Max teased, knowing from the couple of occasions he and Jess had spent a few minutes with Gordy and Soph that the journalist was going to get on brilliantly with Kate and Osgood as well as clearly being a very good match with his brother.

 

“As I was saying, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, Mum’s got Osgood an iris. They’re her favourites.”

 

“Your mother’s favourite flower is iris?”  As she spoke, Soph realised she’d probably got that wrong.

 

“No, Osgood’s favourite is iris… what is Mum’s favourite flower called?” asked Gordy suddenly, looking at Max for an answer, not really sure what the answer was, having never really given it any real thought before, just knowing that they were the ones next to the greenhouse..

 

“Umm…” Max ran his hand over his hair as he considered his brother’s question, “I’m not sure, but I think it’s a rose of some sort.”  Seeing Gordy’s frown and Soph’s curiosity evidently sparked, he continued his explanation, “Os will know, but I’m fairly certain it’s some sort of rose.  She gets a bunch of them sent to her every week at work in the summer, and there’s lots of them planted outside the greenhouse.  It’s sort of a rose but not like the ones you see in bunches...”

 

“Does Os send them?”  This time, it was Max who retaliated first, his brotherly punch to the shoulder landing a split second before Soph caught hold of his tie again.  “What?”  Gordy was beginning to have second thoughts about how well his girlfriend seemed to be getting on with his brother if the result was going to be this tag-team assault.

 

“Of course Os sends them,” huffed Max, feeling aggrieved on behalf of UNIT, “do you really think we’d let them through if it was anyone else?”

 

“But if Os sends your mother flowers every week…” As amusing as the brothers’ antics were, Soph was keen to get up to speed on what it was that they were on their way to see before they got there, “this flower, the iris she’s got for her… it’s got to be…” Soph was about to say it had to be ‘some flower’ in order to match weekly bouquets of ‘sort of roses but not really’ for who knew how long, but then she remembered their earlier conversation about the car, and arriving by helicopter, and the fact that Kate had spent the morning with the Prime Minister whilst Osgood knew the extra heavy security team by name…. “Wait, when you say she’s got her a flower, you don’t mean a flower as in a flower to put in a vase for the day…”  Soph looked from Max to Gordy, seeing from their broadening grins that she was on the right lines, “...you mean…”

 

“Iris Germanica Osgood,” whispered Gordy quietly, not wanting Osgood to overhear, because then he really would be in trouble with his mother, “but Aunt Flo’s decided we’re going to call it Ossy...”


	4. Chapter 4

**The Cocktail Hour, the Penultimate Monday in May**

 

“WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

“Is the sound effect important?” asked Winifred Bambera, smiling as she watched her partner set off on another circuit.

 

“Of course…” Flo’s face was alive with mischief and delight as she weaved around a drain cover, just because she could, before continuing to complete her ‘lap’ of Win, “everyone knows it makes you go faster.”  She applied the brakes and the mobility scooter glided to a stop before she set off again, trying to match Win’s pace.  “Maybe you should try it?” she suggested, glancing quickly up at Win before turning her attention back to the way ahead, not quite confident enough yet to have perfected ‘driving’ without looking where she was going.

 

“Are you suggesting I’m slow?” teased Win, her eyes shining in what she hoped anyone who noticed would think was mirth, but it was actually relief.  Turning 67 next birthday, Winifred Bambera’s stride was still as long as it had been when she’d been in her twenties, although she would, under pressure, conceed it was now a little slower if the ground was rough.

 

“Maybe…” and, with a grin and a positively regal wave, Flo accelerated away from her partner and headed at (relative) speed towards the hotel entrance.  Laughing at her antics, knowing that if anyone was to try and suggest that such behaviour was perhaps not befitting a 77 year old Flo would scoff at their ‘squareness’, Win fractionally increased her speed.  Rarely was General Bambera ever happy to come in second in any sort of activity, but she’d be gladly beaten by Flo every day if it meant that her partner was using her new mobility scooter.  Life had been tough for Flo in the last couple of years, with osteoarthritis making moving slow and painful but pride and a refusal to ‘be old’ had meant she’d struggled on, resisting ‘wheels’.  Win still didn’t know what Kate had said to Flo to get her to change her mind, she was just grateful that she’d managed to get Flo to agree to ‘test drive’ a scooter when they went to the Flower Show to see Osgood be surprised with her iris.  

 

* * *

  
  


Moments later, Win stepped through into the cool calm of the Savoy Hotel, instinctively smiling in thanks to the doorman who was holding the door open.  Pausing to wipe her feet as she crossed the threshold, she watched as Flo, impressively parked in the centre of the large logoed doormat, was having an animated discussion with a staff member.

 

“....sorry Madam.”

 

“There’s no need to be sorry young man, I fail to see what the difficulty is.”  Flo had turned off her scooter and, holding the key in one hand, held out her other in a gesture that clearly indicated he was to offer his arm, which in spite of their difference of opinion, he duly did.  “Thank you, I have not yet successfully mastered the dismount.”

 

“Of course Madam.”  Keeping an impressively neutral expression, he concentrated on helping Flo get up from her scooter and he didn’t let go until she was steady on her feet, her walking stick retrieved for her from the holder attached to the back of the seat.

 

“Thank you.  Now, here’s the key.”

 

“But....”

 

“Young man, are you trying to tell me that the Savoy no longer does Valet Parking?”  Flo dangled the key in front of his face before adding deceptively calmly, “or are you telling me that Ermintrude is too powerful for you?”

 

“Ermintrude Madam?” 

 

“My trusty steed.”  Flo shook the metal ring, it making a little tinkling sound as the key and the metal flying saucer keyring collided.

 

“I…”

 

“Flo!”  

 

“Kate!”  Letting go of the key which, to his credit, he instinctively caught as she dropped it, Flo turned away from the concierge man and carefully stepped towards her friend, “and Osgood!” she added, seeing the scientist following Kate into the lobby.

 

“Causing trouble I see?” teased Kate, glancing in Win’s direction and giving her a lightning fast wink.

 

“Ermintrude is impeccably behaved, and I never cause trouble,” declared Flo, taking Kate’s hand and using it to steady herself as she leaned forwards to kiss her on the cheek.  Not letting go of Kate, she took another step forwards and, giving her stick to Kate, reached out and gave Osgood a hug that knocked her glasses askew.  “What?” she asked when, stood holding both Kate and Osgood’s hands, she looked between them and over her shoulder at Win who was trying to not laugh.  “I never cause trouble, but I can’t be held responsible if other people can’t keep up with me!”

 

“Ermintrude?” As she asked her question, Os reestablished her glasses so they were more comfortably located on her nose.  It was Kate who made the connection first.

 

“Does that mean Win’s Dougall?” 

 

* * *

 

 

When everyone had recovered their composure, Flo and Osgood headed into the Grill Room restaurant where their table was reserved for dinner, but Win held back, catching hold of Kate’s elbow.

 

“Kate, I…”  Winifred Bambera wasn’t known for being a woman of many words.

 

“She looks better…” Kate reached up and gave Win’s hand a brisk squeeze, “ _ you  _ look better.”

 

“She’s… the scooter… I…” No matter what sentence she tried to start, Win found she couldn’t get past the lump that formed in her throat in order to finish it.

 

“She’s having fun, and the scooter’s on the plane with you when you go home.”  Win started to open her mouth to protest that she hadn’t meant for Kate to give them a mobility scooter, she’d only hoped that the Lethbridge-Stewart charm and determination could work on Flo enough to get her to try a rented one during their stay in London.  “She’s named it.”

 

“Yes, Ermintrude.  Why?  And what’s that got to do with it coming home with us?”

 

“The Magic Roundabout….” Kate glanced over her friend and (technically) boss’ shoulder to see that common sense had finally prevailed and Ermintrude was being carefully parked by the concierge desk, ready for when Flo needed her trusty steed again.  “The internet will explain it best,” she added, seeing from Win’s expression that she still had no clue why her partner had chosen that name.

 

“I’ll ask Osgood later.”  Kate smiled, not disagreeing with Win’s assessment that Osgood would obtain a better explanation from the internet for her than Kate would.  It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to use it, she just never quite got around to browsing the internet as, just when she might have found a moment to do so, there was something UNIT wanted, or some gardening she could enjoy, or a bridge game, or cleaning the downstairs loo.  Quite simply, Kate Stewart wasn’t an internet surfer.

 

“Probably best….”  Kate gestured for Win to precede her into the restaurant, “just remember that Ermintrude’s the cow and you’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

  
  
  


“I know Gordy said it was a surprise, but I didn’t believe him,” said Flo, making steady progress towards their table in the Grill Room, supported by her stick and Osgood.

 

“It was, is a surprise.  I didn’t know anything,” assured Osgood, stopping when Flo stopped and grinning when the older woman turned and looked at her in shock.  “Really, nothing.”

 

“But this, the iris would have taken years to establish.”  When Flo and Win had first heard from Kate that she was surprising Osgood with a new iris variety that was going to be launched at the Chelsea Flower Show, their first assumption had been that it was just the latest variety to be developed and Kate had secured the opportunity to pick the name.  However, when they’d watched Osgood’s reaction on seeing ‘her’ flower, it had become quite clear that this was something rather more than that.

 

“Eleven years.”  Osgood blushed when Flo looked in disbelief at her.  “Yes, I know.”

 

“But that means…” Flo stood stock still, completely oblivious to the fact that she was standing in the way of the waiting staff, trying to work out what this meant.

 

“That means that she’d asked them to start trying to establish the variety when we’d been together about 6 months,” explained Osgood, knowing from past conversations with Flo that she could take a while with arithmetic and, as she’d got older her mathematical ability had remained consistently woeful whilst her standing skill had declined.  Her stubborn determination not to be ‘managed’ however, was as strong, if not stronger than ever.

 

“And to think I had you down as the romantic one!” 

 

“Nope.”  Osgood emphasised her point with a sharp head shake, almost dislodging her glasses in the process.  “Kate.  Always.”

 

“I’m always what?”  Kate and Win had caught them up and this gave them an opportunity to trade partners, with Win replacing Osgood as Flo’s supporter and Kate replacing Flo as Osgood’s hand holder.  “Late?”  She gave her partner’s hand a squeeze.  “Bossy?”

 

“Romantic, apparently.”

 

“Really?” Win looked from Flo to Osgood to Kate and back to Flo, having seen only bafflement in the faces of the younger women.  “But I thought we’d agreed it was Osgood?”

 

“It seems, darling that we were wrong.”  Flo shrugged her shoulders.  “Last happened in ‘94 I think.  Where’s our table?”

 

Hint taken, Kate and Osgood led the way across the remaining short distance and their conversation was forgotten for a few minutes while they were seated and settled with menus and drinks, before they returned to the topic.

 

“What made you think I was the romantic one?” asked Osgood, unable to work out what she’d done that had seen her be accorded that accolade by their friends, before realising that there was another way they could have formed the conclusion and not liking it in the slightest.  “Why did you think Kate wasn’t romantic?”

 

“Because they know me?” suggested Kate dryly, taking a sip of her gin sour which helped mask her wince when Osgood reached under the table and pinched her sharply, not approving of her self-depreciation.  As far as she was concerned, Kate was very romantic, and Osgood wasn’t going to accept anyone disagreeing with her on this, least of all the lady in question.

 

“We didn’t think Kate wasn’t romantic,” corrected Win, pausing in relief when her whiskey ‘on the rocks’ appeared, enabling her to take a restorative sip and hope that Flo, whose fault it was they were in this conversational predicament in the first place, would take over.

 

“But she wasn’t the one who flew across Europe on a whim with a teddy bear and some chocolate.”

 

“It was an aircraft, Airbus or Boeing in all probability,” corrected Osgood, giving her Bloody Mary a careful stir with the stick of celery that was provided for the purpose, before biting the end off it and crunching noisily, oblivious to Win and Flo’s amusement.  Swallowing, she added, “and it was Winnie-the-Pooh, not a ‘teddy-bear’.”

 

“We sit corrected,” observed Flo, raising her Bellini in Osgood’s direction by way of tribute and apology.  “Why?”

 

“Why what?” Osgood sipped her Bloody Mary before taking another bite from her celery, this time removing the less crunchy but no less impressive leafy end.

 

“The Winnie-the-Pooh.”

 

“Tiddley-Pom.”  Knowing Osgood would be occupied with her celery stick for a couple of minutes, Kate decided that, whilst she was certain the glow in her cheeks had nothing to do with alcohol, she should probably shoulder some of the conversational burden with her partner.  “Winnie-the-Pooh sings a little song about how cold his toes are, and the chorus is mainly ‘tiddley-pom’.”  She cleared her throat pointedly, “and  _ someone  _ had given me quite a lot of gin on not much food and I was…”

 

“A bit tiddley-pom!” concluded Flo, clapping her hands together in delight, not remotely ashamed about her part in the whole event all those years ago, glad that Kate was able, thanks to her and Osgood, to remember ‘the day of the divorce’ in a more positive way.

 

“Indeed.”  Kate raised her glass in silent toast to Flo’s part in that particular memory, before taking a slow and steady sip of her gin sour, wondering whether anyone would notice if she gulped down the remainder of it and ordered another one.

 

“Quite a romantic gesture though,” continued Flo, oblivious to Kate’s turmoil as she stirred her Bellini, making sure the peach puree was well mixed through it.  “Flying at a moment’s notice across Europe...and a bear is much more lasting than chocolates.” She’d been about to say flowers, but changed her mind at the last moment, today’s events proving that it was possible to give flowers in a way that lasted.

 

“We weren’t together then.”

 

“No but…” Flo lifted her glass and shot an expressive look at Win, who was leaning back in her chair cradling her whiskey, seeking some support from her partner.  Unexpectedly though, it was Kate who intervened.

 

“To answer the question you’ve miraculously managed to not ask for a very long time, Os was a wonderful friend to me that weekend and nothing more.”

 

“Friend?” That wasn’t what Flo had assumed for all these years.  “But I thought you said you were swept?”

 

“ _ That  _ weekend?” Win, on the other hand, wasn’t surprised at Osgood’s chivalry, but wasn’t about to let this opportunity to find out exactly how they’d started their relationship go, having not previously ever had an opportunity to ask.  She may be a General, and a grumpy one at times, but she didn’t see that as being reason to not have a healthy appreciation for good gossip, especially if it was about something that made her friends happy.

 

“You don’t know when we got together?” Osgood, celery consumed, was surprised, so surprised she took off her glasses and started polishing them with her napkin.  “But I thought…”

 

“That we knew?  Far from it!”  Flo put down her glass again and looked pointedly at Kate.  “Someone was a bit of a dark horse and kept her good news to herself.”

 

“You didn’t tell them?” Glasses clean, Osgood put them back on and looked at Kate, amazed.

 

“No.”  Kate shrugged, certain she was blushing.  “I might have mentioned you were coming for the weekend to do tourist stuff, but it was Geneva so no one asked…” Strange as it sounded, no one ever showed any interest in what you did on a weekend when you had friends or family visiting you expecting ‘tourist stuff’.  It was the curse they all shared, the international community in Geneva - Monday to Friday you worked flat out and the weekend you caught up on sleep in the summer and skied in the winter.  Visitors were an understood disruption that were respectfully ignored by your fellow international colleagues - no one liked having to be tour guide for their own visitors, so by unspoken agreement, no one ever asked about anyone else’s visitors.  The two exceptions to this rule were mothers-in-law, for which there was brief commiseration and winter visitors who skied, for which there was much discussion of snow conditions and the lending of odds and ends of ski kit.  “But you saw us, at the Carnival, in February wasn’t it?”  at Kate’s question, Flo nodded, remembering the Geneva Carnival that had been such a visual spectacle every February until it stopped a few years earlier.

 

“And assumed we’d been together since that weekend in August.”  Osgood now understood why, when she and Kate had met Win and Flo by accident in the streets of Geneva during that festive weekend, they hadn’t been surprised to see them looking rather more than friends, and why they’d not had the inevitable awkward conversation about when the relationship had started.  Instead, that ‘pleasure’ appeared to be saved for now, although at least they had the benefit of cocktails….

 

“Hadn’t you?”  Win just about managed to cover her laugh by turning it into a choking cough when she saw Osgood reach for her Bloody Mary and take a lengthy drink, the level of the liquid in the glass dropping by a good couple of inches.

 

“October.”   Seeing Osgood’s progress with her drink, Kate decided that another round was essential and, catching the waiter’s eye, made the necessary signal for more drinks.  “And it was far more romantic than Winnie-the-Pooh,” said Kate, looking fondly at Osgood, able to remember the details of that weekend as if it had happened last week and not eleven and a bit years ago.

 

“Peter Rabbit?”

 

“Funny…”  Kate stuck her tongue out at Win, prompting a peal of laughter from Flo.  “It started with a cheese sandwich and finished with a story about a flower…”  Kate looked back at Os, her love clearly evident.

 

“Cheese sandwich?”  Flo looked at Win for some clue as to what this code meant in ‘UNIT speak’ as she often thought of it.

 

“Granary bread, mature cheddar and some butter to hold it together,” recited Os automatically, reaching out and catching hold of Kate’s hand.

 

“And the flower, wait…” Win blinked when she suddenly realised everyone was looking at her, Kate and Osgood to see if she was right and Flo because she wanted to know what her idea was.  “...an iris?”

 

“There was some other stuff too….” began Osgood, finding Win’s summary to be somewhat lacking in its accuracy, only to be silenced by Kate’s gentle squeeze to her hand and pointedly cleared throat.  Win and Flo were dear friends, to both of them, but some parts of that weekend were too good to share, even years later. “But that’s the summary I guess…”


	5. Chapter 5

**The Saturday of the Cheese Sandwich, October 2004, Geneva**

"This is..." Kate stood awkwardly by the windows onto the balcony, looking out at the nighttime landscape of Geneva, with the lake beyond.   
  
"Me," observed Osgood quietly, coming to stand next to Kate, joining her in looking out at the city skyline.  "And I haven't changed since breakfast."   
  
"I know..."  Frustrated, Kate caught her lip in her teeth and hugged herself, trying to work out what words to use to explain why she didn't know what what words she needed.   
  
"Do you know how to dance?"   
  
"What?"  Surprised, Kate looked at Osgood, only for deeply ingrained childhood manners to kick in.  "I mean pardon?"

 

"Do you know how to dance?" repeated Osgood, carefully keeping her gaze locked on the nighttime view, knowing that as terrifyingly wonderful as the day had been since their picnic, now, in this moment, she was struggling to keep a handle on her nerves, with Kate clearly fairing not much better.   
  
"Dance as in foxtrot, waltz and quickstep?"   
  
"I was thinking more shuffle from foot to foot with someone," explained Osgood, risking a sideways glance at Kate, "although technically yes."

 

"Oh."  Kate looked down at her feet, as if to check that left was still left and right was still right.  "Yes, only I'm not sure that..."

 

"I don't think we need music," continued Osgood, reaching out to lightly touch Kate’s shirt sleeve, neatly folded up to just above the elbow, only to feel a surge of confidence that meant she immediately slid her hand over Kate's elbow and, missing her hand, rested two fingertips on her hip.  Turning so that she was stood facing towards the blonde, Osgood’s nerves lessened just enough when Kate instinctively copied her and, by turning in towards her, showed Osgood that she was just as nervous.  When she felt Kate’s hand settle precisely on her hip, her fingers catching in the edge of Osgood’s trouser pocket, Osgood’s dry mouth managed to open up just enough to let her whisper, "because I think we both know the tune."

 

“We do?”  Despite her confusion, Kate allowed herself to be coaxed forwards by Osgood so that they were stood only a couple of inches apart, her fingertips caught in the belt loops and pockets of Osgood’s trousers.

 

“I think so….”  As she spoke, Osgood slowly shifted her hands up from where they were resting on Kate’s hips to the small of her back.  Instinctively, Kate’s hands followed,trailing up over her friend’s hips until her arms were wrapped around her waist, their bodies shifting closer as they eased into positions that made their loose embrace comfortable for both of them, no longer needing conscious thought or effort to move.

 

“Oh…” Kate blushed when she realised how close their faces were before smiling shyly, “...hello.”

 

“Hi…” As Osgood spoke, her voice barely louder than a hoarse whisper, she felt Kate shiver, which prompted her to tighten her hold as if to help warm her.  “Ok?” she asked, her fingers starting to trace aimless patterns where they were resting on the blonde’s back.

 

“Very ok…” agreed Kate, realising that all she could really feel was warm and ‘right’ - it wasn’t the first time she’d been hugged by Osgood, or hugged her back, but this time it felt different, wonderfully different.  “Almost perfect…” As she spoke, Kate trailed her fingers up and down, tracing the line of Osgood’s spine, each trailed stroke getting a touch longer as with each moment they were stood together she became a bit more relaxed, a lot more confident.

 

“Almost perfect?”  Osgood wanted to reposition her glasses but that meant moving her hands, her hands that were very happy resting gently in the small of Kate’s back, her fingers continuing to trace their random, aimless patterns, patterns that saw them occasionally dip under the waistband of Kate’s trousers.

 

“Mmm….” Kate’s fingers were just finishing their latest trail, running softly up Osgood’s back, inching that little bit further, carressing that little bit higher until she abruptly stopped when the texture underneath her fingers changed.  Rather than feeling the light cotton of the well-washed shirt shifting under her fingers as she explored the warm, smooth planes of Osgood’s back, she felt something firmer, with an edge, and some bumps that she’d never felt before.  Bemused, she started to trace the outline of this new discovery, frowning slightly as she tried to form a hypothesis, struggling to maintain a focus through the fog in her brain which ebbed and flowed with the sweeping strokes of Os’s fingers that seemed to be setting nerves tingling that she’d never known she had.

 

“That’s my bra.” Osgood waited, watching for Kate’s response, her fingers stilling when she’d seen Kate’s expression turn thoughtful, only to gamble that the transition into full on frown was directly caused by her fingers stilling.  The gamble paid off - as soon as her fingers resumed their lazy trailing, aimlessly exploring Kate’s back between waist and ribs, the frown melted away. 

 

“Ah.”  Kate canted her head thoughtfully, automatically catching the edge of her lower lip in her teeth as she worked her way through whatever it was she was thinking about, although as Osgood watched the still caught lip transform into a smirking grin she realised she could stop holding her breath as whatever it was that Kate had concluded, it clearly wasn’t triggering a ‘flight’ reaction.  “You know,” began Kate, her voice quiet, almost conspiratorial as her warm brown eyes sparkled with what Osgood would come to recognise as mischief, “there’s always something I’ve wondered about….”  Kate’s words had distracted Osgood from paying attention to where her fingers were, so she failed to notice Kate resume her teasing trails up and down her back.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes.”  Suddenly, Kate’s fingers moved like lightning, catching Osgood completely unawares.

 

“Oi!”  Osgood jerked and blinked, twice, then wiggled her nose to resettle her glasses as she tried to work out exactly what the blonde bundle of mischief she was holding in her arms had done.  “Did you just?”  Osgood was still a bit too surprised to formulate her question verbally, but fortunately, Kate knew exactly what she was talking about.

 

“Yes.”  Kate tried to look contrite, but her all round joy and elation about what was happening outshone anything else she might have been trying to convey.  “I’m not sorry...well, I mean I am sorry, if it hurt…”

 

“It didn’t,”  Osgood wiggled her shoulders, feeling the muscles over her shoulder blades tense and relax, providing further confirmation that there was absolutely no harm done.  “Just a surprise…”  So surprising that Osgood immediately ‘returned the favour’ and, as tenderly and carefully as Kate had done to her, slipped her thumb and index finger around the clasp of Kate’s bra and let it go so that it gently ‘snapped’ back in place.

 

“Ooo!” Kate, not expecting the retaliation, jerked in surprise.  “Why did you do that?” It was a question triggered by amusement and curiosity, at the total opposite end of the spectrum to accusation and anger.

 

“Because I’m trying to understand why you did it to me.”  Osgood chewed her lip as she studied Kate’s face and tried to work out what the reasoning was, after all, she was a scientist.

 

“Scientific curiosity.”  Kate shrugged as she spoke, only to feel the nerves returning as she realised that to further explain she had to bring up ‘the past’.

 

“Always the pinged, never the pinger?” guessed Osgood, trying to reassure Kate that she understood, knowing exactly when Kate had become nervous because she felt muscles tensing under her fingers, fingers that started their aimless wandering again, exploring Kate’s upper back.

 

“Something like that...” Kate’s relief at being ‘rescued’ by Osgood’s guess was palpable, prompting Osgood’s face to be softened by a relaxed smile again.  “What about you?”

 

“What about me what?”

 

“Pinged or pinger?”  asked Kate, absently tracing the outline of Osgood’s bra as she asked the question, her fingers getting further and further from her spine and nearer and nearer her breasts, something that Osgood was extremely aware of, but she suspected that Kate was less conscious of what exactly her fingers were tracing.

 

“Umm,” Osgood wiggled her nose so her glasses resettled into place whilst she tried to work out how to answer the question without having to delve into too much of ‘the time before now’, “they’re not exactly mutually exclusive states…” she began, seeing the beginnings of Kate’s frown return, a frown that quickly changed to a grin when Kate registered the little ‘snap’ of her bra clasp returning to her back after Osgood had tweaked it again.

 

“Tip top,” muttered Kate, distracted by Os’s fingers again which had managed to find a little spot that, for some reason, made Kate go all shivery.  This wasn’t usually something she’d have appreciated, but then she wasn’t usually in a position to be able to respond by snuggling into Osgood’s body, seeking out the comforting warmth of...

 

Osgood saw the moment Kate realised that she’d shifted that final centimetre closer a second after she’d felt the light pressure of Kate’s chest against her own.  Deliberately keeping her arms relaxed, so that her friend could shift away as easily as she’d moved to close that final fraction of a gap between them, Osgood remembered to not repeat her earlier mistake of letting her fingers still.  Instead, she made extra effort to concentrate on keeping up her random, soothing strokes, although what had started as relatively quick and light teasing was steadily slowing as teasing became caressing.  Feeling the tension easing under her touch, and drawing confidence from the fact that Kate hadn’t pulled away when she’d felt their bodies meet, Osgood returned to their earlier discussion.

 

“Almost perfect...”   Osgood punctuated her statement with a particularly daring swirling pattern that saw the fingers of her right hand circle clockwise and those of her left circle anticlockwise, enjoying the accidental reward of a section of Kate’s shirttail working its way loose.  Seeing Kate’s expression changing once again, and not wishing to draw attention to this little wardrobe adjustment, Osgood elaborated.  “You said this was almost perfect…”  she felt Kate’s fingers start to sketch what felt like figures of eight in the small of her back which not only suggested Kate was maybe more aware of her shirt’s slight dishevelment than Osgood had given her credit for, but that she’d probably notice Os’s Cheshire Cat impression - in fact, if she kept that up much longer, Osgood was going to be needing to sit down as she was discovering she had a really, really sensitive lower back, in a really rather nice way.  Concentrating hard on not collapsing in a heap of humming happiness, Osgood carefully cleared her throat and asked, “what would make it perfect?”

 

“Hmm?”  Kate’s fingers stilled for a moment as she registered what the question was before resuming her caressing, enjoying how Os’s cheeks pinked and little crinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes and mouth as she clearly tried to squint and squash the happy little hums she was quietly letting slip out if Kate managed to find  _ that  _ spot, which not only made Kate more determined to keep finding it, but to also wonder what would happen if she could revisit that spot without the inconvenience of Os’s shirt.  “Oh, that…” Kate studied Osgood’s face intently, as if she were a student cramming for that final examination, taking in as much as she could.

 

“Yes.” Osgood’s eyes were darting left and right as she also tried to map the landscape that was uniquely Kate when she was relaxed and radiating joy, as if it was a view she was about to be deprived of, which was a real risk if Kate’s definition of ‘perfect’ was asking Os to take off her glasses.  “That.”  She desperately wanted to know what was making Kate’s eyes sparkle like sunlight on water, what little thought had made her nose twitch and her cheeks pink, but willed herself to be patient, to trust that this wasn’t going to be their single moment, to believe she would have a lifetime longer than this minute with this wonderful woman in her arms.

 

“Probably easier if I show you,” whispered Kate, feeling Osgood’s back muscles relax under her still caressing fingers once more, which was momentarily confusing as she hadn’t remembered noticing them tighten, not realising that by saying ‘show’ Osgood could correctly guess that meant her glasses were staying on her nose.

 

“O…”

 

Kate’s lips were warm but dry against Osgood’s as she cut off Os mid agreement, freezing time and silencing everything except the roar of blood rushing through her body as her heart went into pounding overdrive, stimulated by the most powerful drug she’d ever experienced, a drug that was instantly addictive, creating a euphoric high no chemist could ever replicate.

 

Osgood wanted, no, needed more.

 

Carefully, taking advantage of her parted lips, claimed mid syllable by Kate’s, Osgood sneaked her tongue forward and traced her friend’s lips with its tip, wanting to satisfy her craving for more of Kate but taking nervous care to not startle or frighten.  Having no idea what she was going to do next, she tentatively explored the corner of Kate’s lips, her tongue gently probing before starting to find its way back along this soft, warm, wonderful join between top and bottom lip that…..  Osgood hadn’t realised she’d closed her eyes until they opened with a start, her whole body feeling the jolt of shock when, just as she was becoming used to the feeling of Kate’s lips on her tongue, they were gone, replaced with a moment of nothingness before there, on the end of her tongue, was something gentle, moist….soft yet powerful, relaxed and yet determined… Instinct saw her own tongue retreat, seek sanctuary behind the protective barrier of her own lips and teeth whilst the rest of her fought through the befuddlement and worked out what was going on.  

 

All this happened in less than a heartbeat, a split second during which her senses were in overdrive, every sound amplified, every colour intensified, every touch electrified...Eyes adjusted to being open, Osgood found herself looking into Kate’s eyes, eyes that she was mentally telling herself were brown as it was impossible to describe the colour of them, so distracted was Osgood by the golden glints of what she wanted to hope were love and happiness, glints that she knew were shining in her own eyes.  For one long, timeless moment there was nothing except them, eyes locked, lips together, tongues still and hearts pounding, their hands all but forgotten about as they rested, calm and slack, at each others’ waists.  And then, like some imaginary race in which they were the only competitors was started with a non-existent starter’s pistol, the universe began again in overdrive.

 

Eyes shut, fists clenching and pulling on handfuls of shirt as contact with bare skin was sought, tongues began to reach, to taste, to lick and touch.  Now, as teeth crashed together and lips moved, nipping and soothing, matching the other’s movements in synchronous harmony, their dance without music began again...began anew, as lovers shared emotions and passions thought unrequited but now being celebrated as being mutual emotions and passions.

 

Neither wanted to be the first one to pause, to be the one to admit that they couldn’t exist solely for the other’s touch and kiss, but, sooner than either wanted, pragmatism kicked in and, reluctantly, their frantic kisses slowed to lingering tastes and touches, each one longer than the last as both, out of fear that when they finally parted it would be a moment that could never be repeated, an experience confined to memory.

 

“Os…” Kate struggled to articulate the rest of her name, as, lips no longer available to her, Osgood started exploring along the blonde’s jaw.  “Mmm….” Her head told her to protest, her hands were trying to obey and catch hold of Osgood’s head to stop her progress along her jaw and down her neck but Kate’s heart was in command, and instead she arched her neck to make it easier for Osgood to continue her exploring.  “Os….” Kate’s momentum pulled her backwards until she was being supported by her shoulder leaning against the window, the glass cool despite being felt through her shirt.  Trying again to catch hold of Osgood’s  _ intellectual  _ attention, Kate blindly ran her fingers across Osgood’s head, fingers raking through hair and, with one hand, finding an ear she could trace, using its outer shell as a guide towards jaw, and from jaw to chin until finally, and miraculously without scratching herself, she could slip a fingertip between her neck and Osgood’s lips.  “Hello….”  Gently, she kept her finger softly stroking those wonderful lips that, as Osgood pulled away enough that they could see each other, were swollen just enough to make Kate blush as she realised with pride that was her doing, just as she could feel her own lips tingling from their own recent activity.

 

“Hi…” Kate’s fingertip caused Osgood to mumble as she spoke, the light pressure the blonde was applying making it hard for her properly form anything more articulate as, when her lips parted, she found herself with a fingertip she could gently nip and lick, a fingertip that didn’t seem to be going anywhere...a fingertip that wiggled when she sucked it.

 

“That was…” Slumping fully against the window so her back was now resting against the glass, its coolness reassuringly ‘real’ and proof beyond question that this wasn’t a dream, Kate made no attempt to stop the lazy grin that spread across her face, a grin that soon Osgood was mirroring, although not quite as broadly, as that would mean relinquishing her hold on Kate’s finger.  “Something I’d like to do again….” Kate reached out with her other hand and cupped Osgood’s cheek, stroking the line of her cheekbone with her thumb, “...and again…”

 

“But?”  Concerned as well as elated, Osgood pulled back from Kate so she could speak unimpeded, although she maintained the intimacy by covering Kate’s hand on her cheek with her own and caught hold of her other hand with her own.  “Because that sounds wonderful to me.”

 

“But I don’t want to stop when my legs start shaking.”

 

“Oh.”  Osgood’s immediate reaction was to start reviewing what they’d eaten for dinner and whether there was a nutritional reason for the shaking legs before her ‘inner human’ caught up with her ‘inner scientist’.  “OH!”

 

“It’s not low blood sugar….” joked Kate, knowing exactly what was going on in the younger woman’s head, “and it’s not dehydration either, although a glass of water would be…”

  
“Restorative?”

 

“Mmm…” Out of reflex, Kate licked her lips, not missing Osgood’s focussed tracking of her tongue as she attempted to moisten first her lower lip and then her top lip.

 

“It’s just me Kate, whatever you’re thinking,” assured Osgood, looking back up at eyes that were losing some of their sparkle as nerves clouded them.

 

“After the glass of water….” began Kate, pushing herself back onto her own two feet, leaving behind the no longer cooling support of the window, “could we do that again…sitting down?”

 

“That sounds wonderful.”  There was something in Osgood’s smile that gave Kate the confidence to start walking to the kitchen, gently tugging Osgood along too.

 

“Your bag’s in the spare room….”

 

“Yes…” By some sort of shared understanding, after they’d got back to Geneva, they’d both headed to Osgood’s hotel where she’d checked out early, her small overnight bag sitting on the floor between them in the tiny Chinese restaurant they’d found for dinner, before being parked neatly at the foot of the bed in the guest bedroom-cum-study that Kate hadn’t quite finished setting up.

 

“While I get the water for us…” Kate paused in the kitchen doorway and, giving Os’s hand a squeeze as she let go, she looked down the short hallway.  “You could put it in my room?  It’s…”

 

“The second door on the right.  I remember.  Are you sure?  Because we don’t have to…”

 

For the second time that evening, Osgood found Kate's lips were a delightful obstruction preventing her finishing her sentence.

 

* * *

  
  


When you were as short-sighted as Osgood had been since her teens, ‘waking up’ was not synonymous with opening her eyes as, unless she put on her glasses, having her eyes open didn’t actually tell her very much about her surroundings.  Instead, she became aware of feeling the weight of the duvet on her body, the warmth of the cocoon around her in sharp contrast to the cooler air that she could feel on her bare arm that rested on the outside of the covers, the comfortable weight of Kate’s arm across her naked stomach….

 

Wait, what across her where?

 

Blinking rapidly, Osgood rubbed her eyes with the hand that had been resting on the duvet as, the fog rapidly disappearing from her brain, she became aware of all the other little hints and clues that this was not a morning like any other she’d had previously….

 

She was lying on her back: she  _ never  _ slept on her back.

 

Kate’s head was on the pillow, close to her shoulder, shoulder length blonde hair cascading across her chest, smelling of a shampoo that hadn’t made her sneeze:  _ all  _ shampoo invariably made her sneeze.

 

She was naked: she  _ always  _ wore pyjamas as most laundry detergents used in hotels for sheets made her skin itch.

 

Kate’s leg was resting across her hips, her foot tucked up against Osgood’s thigh, snuggled up close, keeping them still: she fidgeted  _ constantly  _ in her sleep, the slightest tangle in the bedclothes causing her to wake up wheezing, her dreams turning to claustrophobic nightmares in a second.

 

She was grinning.

 

Moving carefully, trying not to disturb the evidently still sleeping Kate, Osgood reached out to where she hoped her glasses had ended up, wanting to be able to see this new world she’d woken up in more clearly.  Being a creature of many habits had its rewards as, on this most unusual of mornings where everything was different, her glasses had been where they were supposed to be and, with a little bit of one-handed juggling, she soon was blinking again when the world came into focus, just in time to be treated to the sight of Kate waking up..

 

“Mmm…” As she opened her eyes, Kate’s instinct was to start to stretch, only to freeze almost soon as she started moving when she noticed three things:

 

One - her nose had just hit something warm, skin textured and definitely not her memory foam pillow.

 

Two - her bare leg was at a funny angle, resting across a naked someone who was female.

 

Three - she felt wonderful.

 

Still drowsy, she started moving again, intending to push herself up so her head was fully resting on her pillow so she could wake up properly and start her day when the bed made a noise.

 

Except, it wasn’t the bed, it was the person in the bed with her that made the noise, and it wasn’t just a noise, it was a noise that sounded like Os.

 

Intrigued, she shifted again.

 

“Kate!”  Acting quickly, Osgood managed to shift just enough to stop Kate lightly headbutting her shoulder again.

 

“Oh…” Osgood’s jostling was enough to shake Kate into being fully awake, at which point she realised what she’d been doing, and where she was.  “Oh!” 

 

“Oh?”  Osgood’s grin was too big to be fully shifted but it did falter just a bit, although she tried to not panic, reminding herself that despite now being properly awake, neither Kate’s hand or leg had moved away from her.

 

“Not a dream…” Kate blushed when she realised what she’d just blurted out.

 

“No,” agreed Os, her heart restarting and her grin widening again, “not a dream…” she slipped her left arm under the duvet and tentatively ran her hand down Kate’s arm until she was holding her hand, their joined hands resting against her bare hip.  “Is this ok?”

 

“Almost perfect…” declared Kate, discovering that although her left arm was a bit tingly from being slept on, she could just about push down on the mattress enough to get her head more comfortably resting on the pillow next to Os, so she could look at her without cricking her neck or shifting away from Os’s body.

 

“Is this where I ask for a demonstration of what makes it perfect?” asked Os, shuffling across the pillow just enough to make it easier to look at Kate now she was lying on the pillow, trying not to wince when she felt the pins and needles surge through her right arm.

 

“Umm, actually this time it’s easier to tell you…”

 

“Okay…” Nervous, but reassured by Kate’s proximity and generally relaxed body, Osgood tried to concentrate on waiting for Kate to say what she wanted to say, rather than trying to hypothesise a number of scenarios and assess their relative probabilities.

 

“I love you.”

 

“Ah.”  Os’s nose twitched as, glasses feeling askew, she tried to shift them into a more settled feeling position, neither hand able to reach her nose.  “Wait.”  Glasses forgotten about, she blinked and looked at Kate, not sure it was possible for her heart to pound any harder than it was doing right now.  “You love me?” she asked, eyes as wide as her smile.

 

“Surprised?” Kate was reasonably confident she’d not actually surprised her girlfriend? Lover? But didn’t want to assume anything, including what Os might consider her to be.

 

“Relieved.”  Osgood stretched her neck and kissed the tip of Kate’s nose.  “Delighted.”  She haphazardly reached forwards again, this time landing a kiss on the blonde’s cheekbone.  “And rather in love with you too…” 

 

Letting go of Kate’s hand, Osgood ran her hand up the smooth line of Kate’s thigh, feeling muscles tense under her hand as, pushing forwards, she rolled Kate onto her back and, carefully settling over her, taking care not to squash Kate with her body weight, Os felt her glasses slip off the end of her nose, only to be quickly repositioned by Kate, restoring her vision.

 

“Okay?” asked Kate, instinctively reaching to hold her lover’s hips.

 

“Perfect…”  And, taking the hint from Kate’s hands which were now pressing down as they ran up and down her back, Osgood stopped worrying about whether she might squash Kate and instead concentrated on kissing her and loving her as much as she was being kissed and loved in return.

 

It wasn’t a dream, it was better than a dream.

 

* * *

  
  


“Your pictures are on the floor.”

 

“Yes.”  Kate sat down on the edge of the bed and passed Os the mug of coffee she’d brought for her.  “Apparently walls are undecorated this season.”

 

“My flat has picture rails…” Osgood sipped the too hot coffee before turning and putting it carefully on the bedside table, not wanting to have to worry about it until it was at a drinkable temperature.  “So I don’t have to worry about getting permission for nails.”

 

“Lucky you.”  Kate followed Osgood’s example and put her own coffee down, although it left her somewhat uncertain as to what to do next.

 

“That’s my shirt…” began Osgood, leaning across the bed so she was propped up on her elbow, level with Kate’s lap and within range of being able to fiddle with the buttons.

 

“It was closer…” began Kate, looking down at the shirt which was haphazardly fastened by a couple of buttons.  “You mind?” she asked, wondering if she should attempt to straighten up her buttoning effort.

 

“Suits you.”  Os reached up and eased Kate’s hair up, so it sat outside the collar of her shirt.  “The colours I mean…” she added, flushing when she realised that her remark was open to another interpretation, only to remember where they were and what they’d been doing, “although you wearing my shirt’s nice too…”  Feeling bold, she reached out and ran her hand up Kate’s thigh, drawing their shared attention to the fact that, aside from Os’s shirt, Kate wasn’t wearing anything else.

 

“Keep moving that hand and we’re…” Kate swallowed when she felt Osgood’s hand shift, so that instead of running up the outside of Kate’s thigh, it was now moving up the top of her thigh, with her fingers drifting to what would be more accurately described as the inside of her thigh.  “Going to be talking about picture rails.”

 

“Okay…” Settling herself more comfortably on her elbow, Osgood began a third exploration of Kate’s thigh, this time most definitely exploring the inside of her thigh, an inside that was becoming easier to reach as Kate’s leg shifted fractionally.  “They’re eight foot above the skirting board, and three foot below the ceiling coving.  I measured.”

 

“Victorian?”  Kate was incredibly proud of the fact that she didn’t think she squeaked when she spoke.

 

“Georgian.  But the fireplaces have been taken out.”  Osgood’s hand faltered as she was momentarily distracted by a mental picture of Kate by firelight.

 

“Guessed as much…” Kate had a pretty good idea what Osgood was thinking, having had the same idea.  “But better for your asthma, less smoke and soot from a radiator.”

 

“Yes.”  Osgood’s nose twitched, shifting her glasses again.  “Why are we talking about radiators?”

 

“Because we were talking about picture rails.”

 

“Because your pictures are on the floor,” recalled Osgood, remembering where the whole conversation started and sitting up, oblivious to the duvet that tumbled to her waist and completely missing Kate discovering she did in fact know how to ‘whimper’ when, in order to sit up, Osgood moved her hand away.  “Are they new?” she asked, studying the four pictures that were propped up, two against the bookcase and two next to the wardrobe.  Instinctively, she repositioned the duvet around her so it was in reach if the slightly cool and refreshing air temperature started to make her feel chilled.

 

“New to this room since you were helping me to unpack last month, but not new to me.”  Realising that, for whatever reason, she was relegated to second place in Osgood’s attentions for the moment, Kate moved enough of the duvet aside so she could sit on the mattress next to Osgood, looking at the pictures, although she’d have been very happy to stay studying the view Osgood was providing..  “I’ve had them since…” she paused to work out how best to describe when she’d acquired the four botanical specimen drawings that were, to her mind, as aesthetically beautiful as they were botanically fascinating.  “Since before Gordy was born - I saw them in an antiquarian bookshop near where I was working and bought them with my first pay rise.”

 

“They’re beautiful.”

 

“They’re by Pierre-Joseph Redoute.  Prints, obviously.”  Kate stood up and walked over to the two that were leaning against the wardrobe, picking up one of the framed pictures.  “This was the one I saw in the window.  The other three were a bonus.”  She walked back to the bed, unselfconscious about the fact she’d done nothing more than drag a hairbrush through her hair to stop it standing on end and was covered by Os’s shirt that was only staying on thanks to the two buttons fastened between her ribs and navel.  “It’s Rosa Muscosa: Rosier Mousseux.”

 

“Why did it hold your attention?” asked Osgood, accepting the framed picture and studying it intently, keen to understand its significance to Kate.

 

“The flower….” Kate sat down on the bed next to Os, tucking her leg under her so she could sit close to the picture.

 

“Rosa Muscosa?” Osgood angled the framed picture carefully so she could read the elegant calligraphy in the bottom left of the picture.

 

“Means it’s a moss rose, a centifolia rose with soft, almost furry buds.”

 

“Centifolia rose?”  Fascinated, Osgood looked up at Kate, not having known much about roses before now apart from they often made her sneeze in gardens and looked rather stern and miserable in supermarket flower displays.

 

“Big, globe shaped flowers…” Kate pointed to the bloom captured in the picture, “very heavy with lots of dense petals so on the plants they often hang down not long after blooming.”

 

“Gravity’s constant.”Osgood looked back at the picture, “I see the mossy buds…. So it’s a Mousse Rose?” she guessed, presuming that the words in the bottom right of the picture must be its name before frowning at her assumed translation, not sure she’d got it right.

 

“Sparkling Rose, mousseux means sparkling,” corrected Kate kindly, her French currently the best it had ever really been thanks to living and working in Geneva.  “But I thought it was Mousse when I was growing up.”  She settled back against the pillows that she propped up against the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her.  “When I was a little girl, younger than Gordy, before my parents split up we had this garden, and there were these massive rose bushes, well massive for a five year old.  It smelled of summer and playing in the garden with my father, which probably only happened a couple of times but...”

 

“But that’s not the point,” declared Os, putting the picture down on the mattress and looking intently at Kate.  “Was it that rose? Rosier Mousseux?”

 

“Not quite - I’m not sure if that rose exists anymore.  I found some photographs, when I was at university, of me stood next to the rose bushes when I was little and, well, to cut a long story short, it’s a rose called Gloire de Mousseux, and the nearest I have to a favourite flower.  It’s been around as a variety since the 1850s...”

 

“So this is probably it’s Great-Uncle or something,” declared Osgood, looking back at the picture.

 

“Aunt.”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Looking like that?” teased Kate, having suddenly seen something else in the image that she’d never before noticed.  “Definitely a female ancestor don’t you think?”

 

It took Osgood a moment to see what Kate was seeing before she made the connection.

 

“Oh!”  Canting her head to one side, Osgood gave the picture another look.  “There is a certain resemblance…” she finally agreed, “but I hadn’t noticed until you said something.”  She winced when she sounded almost prudish in her assertion that, until Kate had commented, she hadn’t thought anything of the flower with darker pink petals at its centre framed by layers of paler pink petals surrounding it, the colour fading from the petals as they fully opened.  It wasn’t like there weren’t numerous literary allusions to a ‘woman’s flower’.

 

“I hadn’t noticed until I you mentioned Great-Uncles…” confessed Kate, standing up and taking the picture off the bed and crossing over to the wardrobe to place it carefully on the floor there.  “Clearly I’ve had a change of perspective…”

 

“A good change of perspective?”

 

“An Osgood change of perspective,” declared Kate, inordinately proud of her extremely bad pun.

 

“That was bad Kate.”

 

“Sorry.”  Kate returned to the bed. “Seriously, it’s a wonderful change of perspective.”  She rested a knee on the side of the bed so she could lean forward and kiss her lover, something that sounded wonderful to her when she thought it.  

 

“What’s yours?” asked Kate a few minutes later when she was once more sitting up on the bed, sipping her now drinkable coffee.

 

“What’s my what?”

 

“Favourite flower?”

 

“Oh.”  Osgood put aside her coffee and looked at the pictures, before pointing to the one on the far left.  “That one.”

 

“You don’t have to pick one from the paintings Os…” began Kate, thinking Osgood was just being polite and selecting a flower that she had an illustration of.

 

“Irises.  My favourite flowers are irises.  Iris Germanica are my absolute favourites.”  Osgood looked back at Kate, seeing her frowning at the name.  “Bearded Iris?  With the extra fancy falls, uh, downward petals?”

 

“Ah.”  Once more Kate hopped up off the bed and retrieved a picture.  “This is Iris Xiphium…” She held it out for Osgood to take and look at.

 

“It’s lovely!  These are the sorts the florists get quite a lot of…” Osgood passed the picture back to Kate who, once she’d turned it the right way round, studied it thoughtfully, not having really paid it all that much attention over the years she’d had them - for one thing, she’d always found the butterfly irritating.

 

“But you prefer the bearded ones?”

 

“Only if I’m allowed to be extra picky,” confirmed Osgood, reaching back for her coffee, confident it would now be at a drinkable temperature.  “Good coffee, thanks.”

 

“Decent coffee’s easy to find, unlike tea…” Kate was concentrating on putting the picture back against the bookshelf without dropping it on her toes so didn’t entirely notice what she was saying.

 

“PG Tips or Tetley?”  

 

“Typhoo for builders tea, Earl Grey or Darjeeling for afternoon tea.”

 

“I’ll bring some with me next time I visit.”  

 

“That would be wonderful, but you don’t need to be my tea courier…” Turning back towards the bed, Kate felt embarrassed that she might have pressured Osgood into bringing tea bags with her another time.  

 

“I’d like to be… your tea courier that is.”

 

[Rosa Mucosa Rosier Mousseux by Pierre Joseph Redoute [looks something like this](https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=rosa+mucosa+rosier+mousseux+redoute&espv=2&biw=901&bih=733&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwi34uqLh_vOAhVEBBoKHe4wCZ8Q_AUIBygC); Iris Xiphium by the same [looks something like this](https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=iris+xiphium+butterfly+redoute&biw=901&bih=733&site=webhp&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiykdfrh_vOAhXRyRoKHUuuBSEQ_AUIBygC)]

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

“Did you have a garden?”

 

“In Geneva? No, just a series of flats.”  Kate answered Flo’s question whilst Osgood went through the whole ‘never mind 4 different types of mustard, do you have any horseradish?’ discussion with the waiter.  “And before you say window boxes, I couldn’t face working out how to cope with the snow.”

 

“I meant Osgood.”  Before Flo could say anything else, it was her turn to navigate the extra dressings and condiments that she was being offered, which at least gave Osgood a chance to rejoin the conversation.

 

“Meant me what?”

 

“If bearded iris are not the sort the florists get, how did you know they were your particular favourites?” asked Win, trying not to look too smug about the fact that her stuffed chicken breast came fully sauced, seasoned and accessorised and so, unlike all her companions, she was able to just dig in.  Not that she did, preferring to wait until everyone else was in a position to start eating their filet de boeuf (Osgood’s, with horseradish but no mustard, thank you), salmon en croute (Flo’s, with hollandaise if it’s not too much trouble please, asparagus aren’t as much fun with vinaigrette) or roast lamb (Kate’s, mint sauce? No thank you.  Do you have mint jelly? Or redcurrant?).

 

“Oh, university.”  Osgood looked to her right  so she could see Kate’s plate.  “That looks good,” she complimented, smiling at her before turning back to Win and Flo and continuing with her explanation.  “My room in my first year overlooked the Fellow’s Gardens.  They had these wonderful borders and they were full of all manner of flowers.  The bearded irises were a favourite of someone important, never knew who, but it meant there were lots included by the gardeners.”

 

“Ah.”  It was clear to all that Flo wasn’t completely satisfied with Osgood’s explanation as to why she was so particularly fond of bearded irises, but anything more she might have said was momentarily forgotten about as she supervised the delivery of her hollandaise sauce.

 

“Have you ever really looked at an iris?” asked Osgood suddenly, putting down her fork as the waiter left them alone again.

 

“I think so…” Flo put down her own knife and fork and, closing her eyes, moved her hands about in a series of small sweeping gestures which Win knew was her partner ‘air sketching’ as she thought about the flower.  “I’m no botanist,” declared Flo as she opened her eyes, glancing at Kate as she did so, “and would never tackle floral subjects, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.  Why?”

 

“They are quite ridiculous flowers, the way the petals go in all sorts of directions.  And the bearded ones are sillier still, with ruffles and frills not being enough for them, they have to have these fuzzy bits in the middle of their flowers.  It’s not enough that gravity is optional for them, with different parts of the petal going up and down, they have to have an extra flourish.”  Osgood straightened her glasses, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.  “And they grow in all sorts of different conditions and environments.  There’s almost an iris for anywhere.”

 

“Ridiculous, gravity defying and versatile,” summarised Win, ticking off Osgood’s points on her fingers.

 

“But they looked wonderful every day I studied for my exams, whether it was grey and raining, windy or sunny.  So they became my favourites.”  Osgood cleared her throat self-consciously.  “And still are.”

 

“Well Ossy is a very fine bearded iris.”

 

“Ossy?”  Kate looked at Flo in confusion, before remembering something from earlier at the Flower Show.  “Wait, are my children involved in this?”

 

“Possibly…” Flo tried to remain coy, but didn’t manage to last very long under Kate’s rather pointed look.  “You’re just like your father,” huffed Flo good naturedly.  “Under protest and coercion I will let slip that Gordy and Max were calling Osgood the iris ‘Ossy’.  But it was their idea.”

 

“In the same way it was their idea to call me ‘Baby Brig’?”

 

“Umm…” Caught, Flo looked from Kate to Win, who was far too amused for her own good, and then back to Kate.  “Depends…”

 

“Dad likes being the ‘Brig’s Bumbling Boffin’... he keeps humming when he’s tinkering with the lawnmower apparently.  Mum’s just pleased he’s stopped whistling Jingle Bells.”

 

“What does he hum?” asked Win, wondering as she did so just how Flo managed to always get away with her nicknames.

 

“We have no idea.”  Osgood put down her knife and reached for her wine glass.  “I like ‘Ossy’.”

 

“The name or the plant?” asked Flo, still nervous in case she’d caused some offence with what had started off as a bit of fun in an email to Gordy and Max when they’d been helping to organise their visit to London to see the grand unveiling and see Osgood be surprised with Iris Osgood.

 

“Both.  Ossy’s a nice name…” Osgood looked up sharply at Flo as she put down her wine glass, “for the iris, not for me,” she clarified, breathing out in relief when she saw Flo’s acknowledging nod and smile.  “And the iris is perfect…” she looked at Kate, her nose twitching as she tried to get her glasses to settle comfortably again.  “Better than I ever imagined it might be.”

 

* * *

  


“I thought you said it was a surprise,” said Win when she and Osgood found themselves stood in the hotel lobby after their meal, Kate and Flo still ‘powdering their noses’.

 

“Mmm?” Osgood turned to look at Win. “Sorry.  What was a surprise?”

 

“Ossy…” Win nodded at the bouquet of flowers Osgood was holding which, for the duration of their meal, had been safely entrusted to the concierge staff, who had clearly felt more confident in their flower minding abilities than their mobility scooter valet parking skills.

 

“It was,” nodded Osgood, looking down at the bouquet which was, at first glance, just a very simple bunch of a single type of flower cut at various lengths and tied up with a ribbon so all you could see was a cone of the same bloom.  But when the bloom in question was Iris Germanica Osgood, it was a very special simple bunch of flowers.  “A total surprise.  Which is strange.”

 

“Strange?”  Win was confused until she realised what Osgood meant.  “Oh, strange for Kate to be able to organise something to surprise you?”

 

“Yes.”  It wasn’t for lack of effort on Kate’s part, it was just so rare for the blonde to actually be able to make plans that stood any chance of not being ruined by work commitments without Osgood finding out about them, since to get anything to stick in Kate’s schedule, her impressively efficient PA Fran had to not only make sure she’d got it in her Boss’ diary, but also everyone else appropriately senior at the Tower and, on a selective basis, in parts of Geneva and Whitehall too.  And the minute Kate’s incredibly efficient secretary had to start going to those sorts of lengths, Osgood knew too, unless even more complex ‘decoy’ manoeuvres were implemented.

 

“Ah.”  Win shoved her hands in her pockets to stop her succumbing to the temptation to look at her watch to see how long Flo and Kate had been gossiping.  “But you said it was better than you’d ever imagined it to be…” Win looked at Osgood, who was smiling with amusement at the knots she was tying herself in.  “Oh stop laughing at me,” she grumbled, wishing Flo was here - she’d have got to the bottom of this mystery in a moment.

 

“Sorry.”  Osgood attempted to look a little less like she was finding Win’s confusion funny.  “It’s quite straightforward really….”


	7. Chapter 7

**December 2004, London**

 

“Kate?”  Osgood shut the conservatory door behind her, pleased to be inside and with no plans to venture out again.

 

“In the kitchen!”  Unlacing her boots so she didn’t track mud through her girlfriend’s new house, Osgood left them neatly by the door along with her coat and fleece scarf.  Blowing on her fingers to warm them up, the gardening gloves she’d left in the greenhouse protecting her fingers from thorns and mud but not the cold, she padded though to the kitchen.

 

“Hello.”  Wearing only her socks, Osgood’s approach had been almost completely soundless, meaning she’d been able to get to standing behind Kate without being noticed.

 

“Oooo!”  Startled, Kate turned round, although she kept hold of Osgood’s hands so she didn’t get the wrong idea and remove them from her waist.  “Your hands are cold…” She could feel the coldness seeping through the shirt she was wearing, quickly followed by the more direct sensation when Os slipped her fingers under the shirt and beneath the waistband of Kate’s jeans.  “But that’s one way of warming them!”

 

“Sorry…”  Osgood started to pull her hands back, realising that icy cold fingers were probably not that romantic or friendly, only for Kate to shake her head as she reached out and wrapped her left arm around Osgood’s waist, her hand resting lightly as she tried to find a position that didn’t make her broken fingers throb too much.

 

“It’s fine,” assured Kate,  stroking the back of Osgood’s neck with the fingers of her right hand.  “The least I can do considering you’ve just planted all those roses for me…”  She still felt bad that, after getting the fingers on her left hand properly splinted and set after their accidental squashing in the aircraft overhead locker, her weekend plan to plant her new roses and dig over some of the other flowerbeds had required some adjustment.

 

“I volunteered remember?” Osgood decided she wasn’t going to give Kate much of a chance to debate her point and so concentrated on kissing Kate rather thoroughly for a few minutes instead.

 

“Mmm… I remember,” confirmed Kate when conversation was finally possible again, although she wasn’t sure she was capable of complex reasoning yet, not after that kiss.  “But I’d not meant for you do be my gardener all weekend.”

 

“I don’t mind…” And she hadn’t - it had been nice in the crisp December afternoon, digging the holes for Kate to put her new roses in, the splint on her left hand making wielding a spade virtually impossible.  “What variety are they?”

 

“Gloire de Mousseux…”

 

“Your favourite,” remembered Osgood, thinking back to their conversation six weeks or so ago, when Max Vonu had ‘just’ been Gordy’s best friend, the son of Kate’s best friend and Kate’s ‘home’ in the UK was visiting her father.  

 

November had seen all that change however, with the tragic deaths of his parents meaning Max was now Kate’s ward pending formal adoption as per his late parents’ wishes and this was now the new London home of Kate, Gordy and Max.  If everything went to plan, and it was clear that the likes of Winifred Bambera and Kate’s father were keen to ensure everything did go to plan, then when the boys school term finished in a couple of weeks, this house would be their new home, just in time for what Osgood knew would be an incredibly tough Christmas for all of them.  It was why she was happy to help Kate get everything as ready as she could, in spite of her broken fingers, and also why she was equally clear that she’d spend Christmas with her parents and sister - the Lethbridge-Stewarts needed time to get to know each other.  Osgood was planning on still being around in the spring and had decided she could meet the boys then.

 

“I know you don’t have a favourite iris…” began Kate, thinking about her new back garden and the flowerbeds she could look forward to planting in the coming weeks and months - losing her Sussex garden was the only painful bit of her divorce, and it was a negligible pain compared to the wonderful new discoveries she was making now she was once more ‘Kate Lethbridge-Stewart’. “But what would be your perfect iris?”

 

“My perfect iris?” Osgood smiled as she pictured what she’d consider her ‘perfect iris’.  “It would have to be tall, with a strong stem so the flowers stood in all weathers, and not fussy about soil.”

 

“So it’s robust and resilient,” summarised Kate, not surprised that Osgood had an answer that included the practical aspects of the plant as well as its aesthetic qualities.  “Sun or shade?”

 

“Sunny.”  Osgood looked thoughtful for a moment, her fingers continuing to trace semi-random swirling patterns on Kate’s back.  “And not a boggy iris.”

 

“So a robust, resilient, tall iris that can be planted in any soil as long as it’s well-drained and a sunny aspect.”  The description made sense to Kate so far, with the flowerbed under the dining room window seemingly like the best location for this fictitious iris so far - it was South facing, the soil wasn’t too bad and it definitely drained well.  And if it was a tall iris then its flowers would be visible from the dining room, as the bay window started quite low down by contemporary standards.

 

“I don’t speak gardener,” admitted Osgood, her nose twitching as she shifted her glasses into a more comfortable spot on her nose, her fingers no longer feeling numb as she stroked her girlfriend’s back.  “But that sounds good.  And it’s not to die in a frost or each winter.”

 

“So it’s a hardy perennial.  Anything else?”  Kate shifted her left arm so her forearm was lightly resting on Osgood’s shoulder, removing the temptation to try and copy Osgood’s strokes with her splinted fingers: not only would the splints scratch Os, but her fingers would start throbbing harder and it would only end painfully.  However, there was nothing stopping her playing with the hairs that had escaped from her girlfriend’s ponytail with her right hand, and if that meant she stroked and teased the back of Os’s neck, that was an added bonus.

 

“Brown.  The petals are brown.”  Osgood canted her head to one side, not only to make it easier for Kate’s exploration of her neck, but because she was thinking about how else to describe ‘her’ iris.  “Not a dark or heavy brown, but a warm one….”

 

“Chestnut brown?” suggested Kate, trying to remember the various ways she’d seen ‘brown’ be refined as a colour description in her various gardening books.  “It’s a bit warmer than ‘hazelnut’ but not as dark as ‘chocolate’ brown?”

 

“Chestnut brown, but it’s also going to have golden beards…” Osgood saw Kate’s expression falter at this, “the fuzzy bit in the middle of the flower,” she elaborated, seeing Kate’s smile return with this explanation.  “And have light blazes, the middle bits of the petals...”

 

“Light brown?”

 

“No… bright and light.  Like how sunlight makes water sparkle?” 

 

“Oh.”  Kate thought for a moment, trying to picture flowers she knew that had multi-shaded and coloured petals, before remembering some lilies she’d seen.  “White and yellow?  Yellow on its own is a bit harsh and white on its own is a bit cold…”

 

“White and yellow,” agreed Osgood, nodding enthusiastically.  “Chestnut brown petals with yellow-white flashes and golden yellow beards.”

 

“Sounds lovely,” agreed Kate, picturing the flower that her girlfriend had described.

 

“It’s better than lovely,” declared Osgood happily, deciding it was time to have another kiss or two, “it’s perfect….” 


	8. Chapter 8

“It’s been a lovely day Kate.”  Flo looked at her reflection in the mirror one final time, checking that everything was as it should be, preparing to leave the sanctuary of the opulent Ladies Cloakroom and return to the Lobby where Win, Osgood and Ermintrude were waiting.  “Thank you for including us.”

 

“Thank you for coming.”  Kate tossed the small towel that she’d been using to dry her hands in the oversize wicker basket at the end of the counter.

 

“I feel like a schoolgirl when I see those…” volunteered Flo, sitting down on the day bed that was obligingly parked at in the corner, as if knowing that the Ladies Cloakroom was where the real conversations happened.  “A part of me just wants to have a few practice shots....”

 

“Netball?”

 

“Lacrosse.”  Flo studied her knuckles critically.  “I can still remember the bruises I got.  Hilary Jenkins was particularly fierce.”

 

“There’s always one…” agreed Kate, leaning against the marble countertop, sticking her hands in her trouser pockets, recognising that Flo wanted to talk to her about something, but not sure what it was, so happy to dissemble with her until she was ready.  “But at least in Netball we weren’t all individually armed.”

 

“No, more’s the pity, though you could do a lot with an elbow…” Flo smiled wistfully as she remembered her school days some sixty plus years ago.

 

“Still can,” agreed Kate, recalling some of the pushing and shoving she’d noticed in her peripheral vision as people at the Flower Show had tried to push their way to the front of the crowds in order to be able to get the best view of the various show gardens and plant displays.  “Although it doesn’t work so well on the Dogs.”  Even when only minimally armed and dressed in sharply cut suits, Troop were impervious to the sharpest elbows known to Middle England and the ‘A’ through ‘E’ list celebrities who had made it to Preview Day.

 

“Is everything ok?”

 

“How do you define everything?” asked Kate cautiously, not quite knowing how to answer Flo’s question - you didn’t live with Winifred Bambera for more than twenty years and not know how to read people and spot a cover up from several miles away, so Kate knew she would have to be careful how she answered, when she answered.

 

“Your father would have been blustering his way onto the next question,” chuckled Flo, not surprised at Kate’s delicate stepping through the minefield Flo had inadvertently set out for her.

 

“My father wouldn’t have set foot in the Ladies of the Savoy if a Dalek was chasing him.”

 

“No?”  The confident but dry quip wasn’t what Flo had expected Kate to say.

 

“Tactical analysis would have made him aware that the Gents has a step just inside the door followed by two sharp corners, whereas here….” Kate nodded her head in the direction of the door which was step free and clearly visible from where they were settled.  “Tactically unsound, no advantage gained.  And you didn’t answer my question,” she prompted gently.

 

“The Dogs, are they for Win or you?”

 

“Osgood.”  Kate looked levelly at Flo, searching her face for any indication that she’d worked it out before understanding that another piece or two of information was needed.  “Iris Germanica Osgood was listed in this morning’s press release as one of the new plants being launched.  It wasn’t much, but it was enough to be cautious.”

 

“Ah, of course.”  Flo studied the bracelets at her right wrist for a moment, absently untangling two of them, filling the air with the gentle rattle as the rest of her jewelry settled into its new resting places as she moved.  “How are they all doing?”

 

“The Zygons?” Kate saw Flo nod before she continued.  “Quite well - much happier without a nominal representative they didn’t want or trust, at least those on the Leadership Council think so.  The majority of them don’t know any different, hence the Dogs.”  Kate saw Flo smile.  “It’s not funny.”

 

“No, it’s not.”  Flo cleared her throat in a pitiful attempt to keep her amusement at bay.  “Actually my dear, it is, and you know it…” Flo was about the only person who could tease Kate and Osgood about Osgood’s occasional ‘groupie’ problem.  When the general Zygon population got wind of where Osgood might be such as giving a lecture at a government science conference or, as in today’s case, the naming of her flower, some then tried to ambush her for photographs or autographs. 

 

It wouldn’t have been such a problem except for the fact that, particularly if the Zygon was ‘younger’ or not so experienced at maintaining their human imprint, when they got overexcited they would revert to their native form, and, well, that was a problem.  Especially if it happened in a confined space.  Fortunately, it was a very rare for a Zygon outside of the Leadership Council to come across Osgood during her regular day to day existence around the Tower or Geneva, reducing the risk to the occasions when there was something happening that meant her presence was discoverable by the Zygon population at large, like today had been.

 

“You’re thinking about that Arts event we went to with you…” observed Kate, deliberately forcing her expression into a neutral, ‘definitely not finding this funny’ look.

 

“Launch Party, and yes.  What were they called?”

 

“Juliette and Ronald.”

 

“That was it, and their friend…”

 

“Dorcas.”

 

“And their friend Dorcas won the Critics Award that night in the Living Artwork category, despite not being entered in the catalogue,” recalled Flo, remembering how a rather quiet, austere looking young woman had, on being introduced to Osgood by her friends, suddenly become incredibly excited and, much to her mortification, revealed herself to be a Zygon.

 

“She was on a 72 hour visitor’s permit,” recalled Kate, smiling as she remembered how Juliette and Ronald had been mortified that their friend, who was actually a cousin three times removed if her Zygon genealogy was correct, had given herself away like that.  “It was all rather tricky actually - the paperwork was horrific when she won.”

 

“Oh?”  Flo didn’t remember hearing that part of the story, finding it amusing enough thinking back to the five of them trying to shield Dorcas from anyone’s passing scrutiny whilst she tried to calm down enough to remember what she was supposed to be looking like and then stabilise in that image.  

 

“The Critics Award came with prize money - we had to get her registered with Equity and sort out her tax return, not to mention change her visa status over to a work permit.  But we still get a Christmas Card…. in April admittedly.”

 

“Royal Mail don’t do intergalactic special delivery?” Flo knew what Kate was trying to do, and was prepared to play along, but only for so long.  “How is she?”  And so ‘everything’ was defined.

 

“Better, we both are.”  Kate absently rubbed the back of her neck as she studied the floor tiles just in front of the toes of her leather boots that she’d worn in an attempt to not ruin a pair of heels on the grass of the Royal Hospital.  “It’s…” she looked up at Flo, “Good.”

 

“Good?”

 

“Very good,” amended Kate, chewing her lip as she waited for Flo’s reaction.

 

“I always underestimate your ability for understatement Kate,” said Flo finally, knowing she was never going to hear the generally calm and collected blonde declare that her life with Osgood was ‘fan-fucking-tastic’ or similar.  However, she could see that her friend’s eyes, although steady  when they held her gaze, were clear and sparkling in a way that she’d become too accustomed to not seeing during those difficult periods when The Peace had sat heavily on their shoulders.  “But Win always reminds me that what you do isn’t really compatible with hysteria.”

 

“I’ll take that as a compliment then.”

 

“Do.”  Flo concentrated on getting herself to her feet and standing steady with her stick before she continued, grateful that Kate made no move to assist her or hover, but instead remained calmly where she was, near enough to help but far enough away to show Flo she knew she was fine.  “But the house is always yours to come to, either together or individually if you need it.”

 

“Thank you.”  Kate felt like she should be saying more, that two words weren’t enough to convey how sincerely grateful they both were that Flo and Win had, in their different ways, been there for them both during the whole Zygon integration when Osgood and her ‘sister’ had found sanctuary halfway up a Swiss Valley where you could yodel and get angry and find peace, just as Kate had done when she’d received confirmation of her divorce.  It had been Kate’s sanctuary again when, following the death of Osgood’s ‘sister’ and Osgood’s need to complete her sister’s plans, she’d tried to find her own peace again as Osgood fought to keep The Peace.  “But we can’t keep pushing you out of your home…”  

 

“Of course you can!” Flo moved carefully across the shiny marble floor so she could take hold of Kate’s arm, unable to grab her hand because it remained stubbornly stuck in her trouser pocket.  “It’s the only way I can get Win to take me on holiday…” teased Flo, knowing that Win would forgive her the lie, as it had invariably been Flo refusing to go on holiday recently as her mobility had gradually decreased.

 

“Not anymore,” corrected Kate, seizing on the opportunity to tackle her friend on the mobility scooter.  “You’re taking Ermintrude home with you, and you’re using her!”

 

“I…” Flo hadn’t expected the rapid change in topic and was caught conversationally off balance.

 

“Flo…” chided Kate gently, reaching out and holding the elderly woman carefully by the elbows, ready to steady her if she wobbled, preparing to hug her when she was ready.  “What do you always say to me? To us?  That there’s no right way to cope?  But be with friends while you find the way to cope today?”

 

“That doesn’t sound like me….”

 

“So I paraphrased and edited out the darlings…” Kate’s tease brought a smile to the elderly woman’s face as she realised the truth in Kate’s statement and her summary of what Flo was always reminding her and Osgood about when they had appeared on her doorstep over the years, often without much warning.  “There’s no right way to cope, but there are some wrong ways?”

 

“Leaving Ermintrude behind is probably the wrong way…” agreed Flo cautiously, before grinning mischievously, “especially as Osgood tweaked it for me.”

 

“She did?”  This was news to Kate, but for Win’s benefit, she’d go with whatever led Flo to agree to the mobility scooter travelling back to Switzerland with her.

 

“I’m my own wifi hotspot  _ and  _ I can get Radio 4 anywhere apparently!”

 

“Anywhere?”  Not that Kate really knew why she was seeking clarification - if Os had told Flo she could get Radio 4 and wifi anywhere, she’d be able to get Radio 4 and wifi anywhere.

 

“Anywhere!  I’ve already tried it on the tube and in the haberdashery department at John Lewis - such a shame they’ve made it tiny and hidden it on the fourth floor.  It’s also going to work at home.”

 

“Only Radio 4?”

 

“It gets everything apparently, but I’m only interested in Test Match Special and the Archers.  I miss Humphrey Lyttleton.  And it records the Archers for me so I won’t miss anything.  Win will be wondering what’s keeping us.”

 

Shaking off Kate’s gentle hold, Flo carefully turned round and, with surprising speed considering her general levels of discomfort from her osteoarthritis and how long the day had already been, she headed for the lobby, leaving a somewhat dazed and flat footed Kate to untangle everything that Flo had just told her.

 

“Wait…”  Flo stopped at Kate’s call, her hand on the door, and looked back at the younger woman, waiting for her question.  “You listen to the Archers?”

 

“Since the very beginning, and I’ve never forgiven them for what happened to Grace!”


	9. Chapter 9

“Hello Gordy.”

 

“Aunt Win!”  Gordy grinned at his ‘aunt’ and stepped forward to decorously kiss her on both cheeks in greeting.  “Sorry we didn’t get to talk properly earlier…” Gordy stepped back and slipped his arm back around Soph’s waist.

 

“It was rather busy,” agreed Win, looking from Gordy to the lady she presumed was his girlfriend, “but you don’t have that excuse now Gordon.”

 

“Ah, no.”  Suddenly nervous, Gordy looked from Win to Osgood who, knowing exactly what he was thinking, shook her head slightly to confirm that no, she wasn’t going to help him by introducing Soph for him, and nor was his mother, when she arrived.  “This is Soph, Soph, this is my Aunt Win…”

 

“Hello…” Soph shook the hand that Win offered, smiling automatically as she did so, although she was not really any wiser. 

 

“Winifred Bambera,” Win looked from Gordy to Osgood who shrugged before going back to alternating between watching for Kate and looking at her flowers, leaving Win to decide how she wanted to explain her status as Gordy’s ‘Aunt’.  “I’m an old friend of Gordy’s mother and Grandfather.  Most people call me General.”

 

“Pleased to meet you.. General.”  Soph would later realise she was probably supposed to find found it strange meeting her boyfriend’s ‘Aunt’ who was a General in the lobby of the Savoy Hotel just before 11pm on a Monday night in May.  But given that his mother had arrived by helicopter having spent the morning coping with the Prime Minister and given her girlfriend an entire species of a flower, all before lunch, it somehow seemed to make sense.  “I’m Sophie Abillou, I…”

 

“Write articles in the Financial Times.  I did enjoy your piece on antique sports cars last month Ms Abillou, or do you prefer Soph?”

 

“Soph’s fine, General.”  Soph looked at Gordy, trying to assess if he’d tipped his ‘Aunt’ off about her article, but he was doing such a good innocent impression that could only be genuine.  

 

“Where’s Max?” Osgood looked at Gordy, expecting him to know where his brother was.

 

“Coming.”  Gordy used the mirror behind Osgood to check his brother wasn’t yet in earshot.  “Jess rang, so he’s having a quick chat with her, but he’ll be here in a minute.”

 

“Jess Padwinkski,” explained Osgood for Win’s benefit, saying the name in such a way as to make Win think it was supposed to mean something.

 

“One of ours?”

 

“Exobiology.  And Max’s girlfriend.  She went to Geneva this morning, for the thing?”  The ‘instead of me’ was silent, but even Gordy and Soph ‘heard’ it.

 

“Oh, that.”  Win was glad that she’d not been in Geneva this morning, as no doubt someone would have expected her to make an appearance at the Symposium on something that had seen a large number of UNIT scientists gathering to discuss, as far as she could see, goo that sometimes glowed in the dark.  It was no doubt important and fascinating, but she’d been very happy to have left Geneva on Friday morning and leave making the scientists feel welcome to someone else, especially as two of the few UNIT scientists she could tolerate had just had dinner with her in London and wouldn’t have been there anyway.

 

“Yes.  I must ask her how it went, as if the properties they’ve identified could be isolated and replicated….”

 

“Os?”

 

“Yes Gordy?”  Osgood stopped talking and looked at him, repositioning her glasses as she did so.

 

“If you’re going to boffin us, could you wait until Mum gets here to translate please?”  He saw Win’s face break into a relieved smile when she’d worked out he had even less luck following Osgood when she was in science boffin mode than she had.  

 

“Oh, yes.”  Osgood adjusted her glasses again and checked her bowtie was neat and square at her neck.  “Sorry.”  She thought for a moment.

 

“I’ll take an NTS?” volunteered Win, feeling bad that Osgood’s evident excitement at whatever it was this symposium had been studying wasn’t getting an appropriately appreciative audience.

 

“NTS?” Soph had asked Gordy quietly, too quietly for either Osgood or Win to hear, although his shrug and muttered ‘no clue’ was audible.

 

“Non-technical summary,” answered Osgood automatically, before looking at Win and, after a moment’s thought, declaring, “if the exo-biologists can work out why it glows in the dark and bounces, we can then try to make other things either glow in the dark or bounce, or do both at the same time.”

 

“Do we have things that would be improved by glowing in the dark and bouncing?” asked Win, appreciating the summary but not entirely clear on the benefits to UNIT.

 

“How can anything not be improved by glowing in the dark and bouncing?” asked Gordy, rather forgetting that he probably shouldn’t interrupt the ‘grown-ups’ talking.

 

“I’ll remember that next time your dirty laundry mysteriously appears at home shall I?” asked Kate, having no idea what they were talking about, only hearing Gordy’s final question but deciding it probably didn’t matter.

 

“Mu-um….”  Soph hadn’t ever seen Gordy blush that particular shade of red before, but it was quite an impressive shade to add to what was an already rather rosy assortment that she’d during the few weeks they’d been going out.

 

“It’s because she loves you Gordy,” said Flo, joining the group slowly, happy to exchange her stick for Win.  “Will you ask Concierge to bring round Ermintrude please?”

 

“Ermintrude?”  Gordy was more than happy to run any errand Flo wanted if it reduced the likelihood of his mother finding another way to embarrass him, but he didn’t understand what Flo wanted him to do.

 

“Valet parking, they have the key….”

 

“Ermintrude’s the scooter,” whispered Kate, filling in the blanks for him.

 

“Gotcha.  Excuse me ladies.”  And with a grin and a courtly little bob of a bow, Gordy headed off to enter into negotiations with the Concierge staff for the return of one mobility scooter.

 

“Did I just see…?” Uncertain, Win looked at Osgood and Kate to see if they had also caught a glimpse of his jacket lining.

 

“The lining?” Kate wasn’t quite sure what she had seen on her son’s jacket lining, but at least she wasn’t surprised to see it was something different.  “The boys’ 25th birthday presents, they’re finally wearable.”

 

“Telephone boxes.”  Soph had spoken before she’d really thought through what would happen, which was that she was suddenly on the receiving end of three versions of what she could only describe as a ‘keep talking’ look.  So she did.  “He showed me earlier, it’s a pattern of telephone boxes, the Gilbert Scott red one?”  She didn’t know what she’d said, but whatever it was, it was having a different effect on the expressions of Osgood, Kate and the General to that of Flo, who she’d spoken with briefly at the Flower Show, as Flo was looking pleased and the other three…..they were looking relieved, but she didn’t understand why.  “Only instead of them being red, he had it printed in shades of blue as it went better with his suit.”

 

“Blue telephone boxes? The ones that are usually red?”

 

“Yes General.”  Soph had never stood ‘at attention’ in her life, but she was almost tempted to try, as she wasn’t quite sure what else to do in the silence that followed.

 

“Well I think my design looks fabulous in blue.”

 

“Your design?”

 

“Yes dear.”  Flo appraised Soph, having not really had a chance to talk to her when they’d been at the Flower Show beyond a rapid introduction by Gordy.  “I helped with all the linings.”

 

“My question marks are lovely.”  Osgood stepped in front of Kate in order to be able to give Flo a gentle hug in thanks, it not having occurred to her that Kate had got their friend involved to make a special jacket even more special.  “Thank you.”

 

“My pleasure.”  Flo felt Win catch hold of her walking stick, so she could return Osgood’s hug with both arms.  “But your Kate did all the hard work, I only made it into a pattern.”  Flo spoke quietly, and directly into Osgood’s ear.

 

“She did?”  Not letting go of Flo, Os did loosen her hug just enough to be able to look at Flo to check she wasn’t joking, before looking at Kate who, having a remarkably good idea what they were talking about did something rarely witnessed by anyone other than Osgood - she blushed..

 

“Knew the colours and what the question mark had to look like.”  Flo nudged Osgood’s arm so that she let go of her and brought the bouquet she was still holding around from behind Flo to where they could both see it.  “She can be quite stubborn when she wants to be.”

 

“Yes, she can.”  Osgood spoke without censure or criticism, knowing that Kate was stubborn when she wanted to be, which wasn’t very often.

 

“She had good reason…” Flo was considering the bouquet of ‘Ossy’ flowers as Osgood held them between them with an artist’s eye, noticing how the chestnut-brown of the petals matched the jacket and the golden beards (as Flo now knew the fuzzy bit in the middle was called) were the same warm shade as the question marks that Kate had been most insistent about staying that particular colour as Flo had scattered them over a shimmering background of the white-gold shot silk that, now Flo really looked, was beautifully reminiscent of the yellow-white ‘flashes’ that accented each of Ossy’s petals. “A very good reason.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Max!”  Hearing his brother’s stage-whispered shout from across the lobby, Max changed course and headed for Gordy, unfortunately this meant there was no one to rescue Gordy’s girlfriend from Kate and Aunt Win, but she looked like she was holding her own.

 

“What’s up?” As he turned the corner, he very quickly saw what Gordy’s difficulty was.  “Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”  Gordy rubbed the back of his neck, in unconsciously perfect mimicry of their mother.  “Any ideas?”

 

“How did it get there?”  ‘It’ was Flo’s mobility scooter, and ‘there’ was carefully positioned in the centre of a hotel baggage trolley, which was then neatly parked next to the concierge desk.

 

“Brute force and gentle handling,” summarised Gordy, having already had the longer version from the duty concierge who had started his night shift half an hour earlier with the scooter already installed by his colleagues.  “Flo parked it on the doormat.”

 

“That we can do.”  Admittedly, thought Max, it would have been easier an hour ago when he still had some of Troop around, but he was fairly certain that Flo’s scooter couldn’t be that heavy and presumably the hotel had some muscle parked somewhere that could be co-opted.  “But they can tell Aunt Win they broke it.”

 

“Broke it?”  Gordy hadn’t considered that was a possibility, thinking it was just a case of ‘not doing it right’.  “And why Aunt Win?”

 

“Isn’t it broken? If it won’t ‘go’?” Max was struggling to think why else it would be on a trolley.  “And according to Mum, Aunt Win’s been trying to persuade Flo to try a scooter for ages, but this is the first one she’s used.”

 

“Ah, no, not broken.  Boffed by Os.”  Gordy smiled when he heard Max’s sigh of relief - he’d have done exactly the same.  “Any ideas?”

 

“Yeah, get it off the trolley before you touch anything!” After all, thought Max, you never knew what Osgood’s improvements might be…

* * *

  


“Os?”

 

“Mmm?”  Hearing her name, Osgood turned to look at Kate but was careful not to let go of Flo who, without her stick which was in Win’s hand, was dependent on Osgood to stop her wobbling.

 

“I think the boys need some help with Ermintrude.”  As she spoke, Kate moved to take over as Flo’s principal supporter so that Osgood could go and investigate.

 

“Ermintrude?”  Flo’s attention was caught, and she started to turn around in the direction of concierge, accepting her stick and Win’s arm as she moved, releasing her hold on Osgood in the process.  “What’s happened?  Why are you carrying her?”  This last question was directed at Max and Gordy who were walking across the lobby towards Flo, Ermintrude the mobility scooter being carried between them.

 

“We couldn’t find the ignition Aunt Flo,” admitted Gordy a little sheepishly as they carefully put the scooter down about 5 yards from Flo.

 

“Haven’t you heard of contactless?” asked Flo, carefully not making eye contact with Win, who knew that until they’d read Osgood’s note carefully twice, Flo hadn’t either.

 

“Actually…” Osgood repositioned her glasses as she worked out how to explain.  “It’s a bit more than that.”

 

“I’m a hotspot!”

 

“She means Wifi,” explained Win, struggling to keep a straight face when Flo didn’t quite get it right, although she was impressed that the boys managed to stay impressively stoic.

 

“That’s what I said.  And when I’m sitting on it, I can get Radio 4 on my hearing aid!”  Flo’s enthusiasm for the scooter was infectious, with even Max and Gordy forgetting that it was temporarily immobile.

 

“In Switzerland as well?” asked Win of Osgood, not remembering anything in the note about that.

 

“Of course.”  It was Kate’s turn to try not to get in trouble with her partner for being amused, but it was so rare for Os to grumpily huff like that, and it wasn’t Kate’s fault she found it extra endearing.  Fortunately, Flo was now in full swing with her enthusiastic recounting of her ‘special features’ and recaptured everyone’s attention.

 

“I’ve got touchscreen controls, which I can read without my glasses...”  Soph was impressed, and starting to wonder if she could persuade Osgood to let her do a piece on the potential for technology to improve the independence of older people.  “ _And_ I’ve got sat nav.”

 

“Anything else?” asked Win when it seemed that Flo’s exuberance was finally waning, no longer able to conceal her amusement, which earned her a look that twenty years ago might have had her remembering where the spare pillow for the couch was.

 

“There is one more thing…” began Osgood quietly, surprising everyone who had thought that the features Flo had described were more than impressive.  “Have you got the bracelets?”

 

“You mean the rubber things?” asked Flo, gesturing to Win to produce them.  “We didn’t know what to do with them.”  Win held out the two bracelet ‘things’ that Max, Gordy, and Soph recognised as being not dissimilar to a wearable fitness tracker, a red one and a black one..

 

“If you put it on your wrist Flo…” Osgood took the red bracelet from Win and opened the clasp before closing it around Flo’s wrist, at which point there was a quiet beep and a line of pinprick sized LED lights down the middle of the bracelet lit up in first red, then yellow, then green before going out.  “I’ve only programmed it with some basic commands at the moment, but if you say ‘Scooter come’...” Osgood gestured for Max and Gordy to move aside as, intrigued, Flo looked from the bracelet to Osgood.

 

“Scooter come?”  Flo looked down at the bracelet again, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed it didn’t seem to do something, only to look up along with everyone when the previously immobile scooter turned on.  “Did I do that?” she asked, excited.

 

“Well, I think Ermintrude’s doing most of the work…” pointed out Kate, saving Osgood from having to work out how to explain in a technically correct but non-technical way, as she put her arm around her girlfriend’s shoulders.

 

Transfixed, everyone watched as ‘Ermintrude’ completed a neat u-turn on the spot and then at a suitably slow speed, approached Flo.  However, due to how everyone was standing, it wasn’t possible for the scooter to stop in a position where Flo could get on.  But, just when Flo was about to start walking towards it, they all saw a little spotlight appear and focus in on Win’s feet.

 

“Excuse me please.”

 

“What on…”

 

“The sensors have detected you as being in the way of the scooter manoeuvring to Flo,” explained Osgood, pleased it was working as well as in testing.

 

“Oh.”  Win took a step back.

 

“Thank you.”  The light went out and the scooter completed its turn, stopping right in front of Flo.

 

“I don’t know what to say…” Flo was overwhelmed with her scooter’s newest functionality and looked at Osgood and Kate, speechless.

 

“I’ve programmed a few basic commands as a starting point,” said Osgood, electing to interpret Flo’s comment literally for everyone’s benefit.  “There’s a list of them on the tablet.  But you can programme more or change the ones you’ve already got.  Or, if you’ve got the key, just use it like you were before, if you don’t want to talk to it.”

 

“What does this do?” asked Win, distracting everyone away from Flo so she had a moment to regain her composure, holding up the black bracelet that, now she looked at it, was more like a wristband.

 

“Oh, if you put that on and Flo says ‘follow Win’, the scooter will be guided by the position of that sensor, so you can walk along together.”

 

“Osgood, this is….” As speechless as her partner, Win looked at Osgood, then Kate and back to Osgood.

 

“Something you might want to test?” suggested Kate, feeling Osgood start to fidget under the scrutiny of everyone.

 

Suitably encouraged, Kate and Osgood stood together and watched as, with the help of Max, Gordy and Soph, Flo and Win started to get to grips with Ermintrude’s ‘Osgood’ features that might have been achieved with a bit of 'K9' technological assistance...

 

“Os?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I want to kiss you,” began Kate, suddenly remembering a moment, more than a decade ago when, sat on a rock on the edge of Lake Geneva, cheese sandwiches in her lap, she’d said exactly the same words.  “But I’m worried about the flowers.”

 

“Oh?” Osgood looked at the flowers, which, now she thought about it, would be starting to dry out after being presumably cut earlier that morning if not yesterday, not to mention that now she thought about it, it was rather late and Kate had been summoned by the PM rather early...  And then she looked back up at Kate, this amazing woman who still  understood her better than anyone she’d ever met, who Osgood still found she could enjoy teasing as easily and as gently as she  enjoyed being teased by… her lover… her best friend… her Kate.

 

“Os?”  Kate waited as long as she could, certain that her heart was audible as it tried to pound its way out of her chest, suddenly nervous.

 

“Do we have to stop at kissing?”

**Author's Note:**

> Iris Germanica Osgood does not exist in name, but it does exist in horticulture - I have 'borrowed' Iris Germanica 'Kent Pride' (well worth a google to see what it looks like). It's a well established and widely available iris and I hope it's an Osgood fan.
> 
> Ermintrude is in the Magic Roundabout, which is not mine - for those that have only ever seen the big screen animated films... you have not lived! The Magic Roundabout (in it's 'original' form which is actually an English voice track on a French animation) of Flo's recollection (and mine) is quite, quite different....!
> 
> As always, thanks for reading - hope you enjoyed it!


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